


Beyond the Veil

by Mellifluous_magic



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Alternate Universe, F/M, Gen, Hermione is adopted by the Lupins, Marauders' Era, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Build, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-09-20 21:14:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9516533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mellifluous_magic/pseuds/Mellifluous_magic
Summary: Twelve years have passed since the war, and Hermione has settled into a nice routine. However, this all changes when she is assigned to the Death Chamber and figuring out the secrets of the veil. All she has is untranslated runes to guide her, but when she unlocks their secrets she is sent back in time. Crash landing into the 1970s and Remus Lupin's garden, Hermione must work harder than ever to keep everyone alive--including herself. The Lupins raise her as their own and she attends Hogwarts with Remus. Once there, she struggles to keep her secret but soon finds out that she's not alone.





	1. The Veil

**Author's Note:**

> Hello. So I'm a sucker for time-travel fics and hope that I'm putting a refreshing spin on this! I'm also not a huge fan of the Sirius/Hermione/Remus love-triangle. The remedy for this is Hermione becoming a Lupin. I tried to leave out as many overdone tropes as possible, but some will always manage to sneak through. Let me know what you think! And as this is technically an alternate universe rather than simple time-travel, there will be some minor changes (even some major ones, just to make things difficult). Let me know what you think! And I will attempt bi-weekly updates. Also, there is no beta. If there's a particularly bad mistake, just let me know and I'll fix it.

Little did Hermione know that today would not be like all others. Yes, she woke up promptly at six in the morning like most days. She pulled on her Unspeakable robes--like most days. She even said goodbye to Crookshanks before throwing floo powder into the fire and stepping in. All in all, a perfectly normal start to a perfectly normal day. She could use normality, however. After spending her teenage years on the run and helping take down the darkest wizard of all time, Hermione thought she was quite right in deserving a normal life. She’d been enjoying one for over ten years. It was a pity that would change.

 

—————————————————

Hermione stepped out of the floo and brushed ash off her robes. The ministry was already crowded with witches and wizards rushing to and fro. Soon, Hermione joined them. A woman called out to her in greeting. A young man stared in awe as she passed. Hermione paid no mind as she made her way to the lift. When one was a part of the Golden Trio, staring came with the territory.

“Department of Mysteries, if you please, Charles,” Hermione said to the older gentleman manning the lift.

“Of course, miss.”

“Charles,” Hermione replied with a laugh, “I’ve told you to call me Hermione.”

“Yes, yes. Of course, miss.” Charles gave a wizened smile, “It’s a shame that I keep ignoring you.”

“You’re terrible,” Hermione admonished as the lift rushed through the ministry before abruptly stopping.

When the gate opened, a few people made their way in, including a lanky man with a mop of ginger hair. When he saw Hermione, he beamed and moved toward her.

“Now, Hermione, isn’t today your day off?”

“Now, Ronald, aren’t you supposed to be with a heavily pregnant wife?” Hermione said, mimicking Ron’s voice, laughing as his ears turned red.

“That was until Daphne told me to stop babying her. I apparently didn’t listen and she forced me to head to work at wand point. Bloody mental that one is.”

“It’ll only get worse once the baby arrives, you know.”

“Once little Verga arrives this will all be over. Did you know she’s been making me run out to get Fortescue’s every night for the past week?” Ron said incredulous, clearly expecting Hermione to be on his side.

“What a struggle,” Hermione rolled her eyes at him. “Have your mum come over and help Daphne.”

“She’s part of the problem! Nightmares, the lot of them. I don’t know how Harry did it, popping out kid after kid.” Just as Ron finished speaking, the lift slammed to a halt and the doors opened.

“Those are your nephews and niece you’re talking about, and technically it was Ginny doing the popping. Now, if you excuse me, I have very important work,” Hermione said as she delicately stepped out, wishing Charles a good day.

“You still haven’t told me why you’re even here in the first place!” Ron called from the lift, causing Hermione to give a small chuckle.

Hermione’s shoes clicked down the hallway as she approached the door to the Department of Mysteries. Blue light glinted off her bushy hair and the ominous feeling she once felt when approaching the department had long since faded. Now, there was only excitement and curiosity.

She pushed open the door to the round entrance chamber. As an Unspeakable, the area no longer tried to confuse her. She pushed through the door leading into the thought chamber. There, a man stood with a quick quotes quill and parchment floating beside him. On a small metal table in front of the man was a basin containing a brain. He turned and jumped when Hermione’s shoe made a particularly loud click.

“Oh, Ms. Granger, it’s you,” the man said with the slightest of accents.

“Hello, Mr. LeBlanc. Is Professor Croaker in?”

“Indeed he-No! Back!” LeBlanc prodded the brain in front of him, which had been slowly working its way off the table. “As I was saying, he’s over in his office.”

“Thank you, Sir,” Hermione said, holding back a laugh. “I’ll leave you to your rogue brain.”

“Yes, and close the door on your way out!” Hermione left the room, pointedly shutting the door behind her.

With the door firmly shut, Hermione faced the entrance chamber, mentally counted the doors, and opened the door for the Hall of Prophecies, holding back a shiver. Even though the rest of the department ceased to bother her, just the sight of this room made her uncomfortable. It had been fourteen years since the battle, but she still remembered the crash of prophecies and the ghostly echoes of their contents. She shook herself to regain composure and headed to the very back of the hall where a little office stood.

Knocking on the door, she pushed it open after hearing Professor Croaker’s quiet voice. Carefully stepping over various odds and ends, Hermione approached a rickety desk that bent from all the weight stacked on top. Sitting at the desk was Professor Croaker, an ancient, hunched-over man who still carried a youthful energy. It appeared he was twiddling with a time-turner.

“Professor? You wanted to see me?”

“Yes, yes. Sit down, Granger,” Croaker said, never looking up from the contraption.

“Is-is this about the time turner, Sir? I only ask because it’s my area of study.”

“Oh, no. Wiggins just brought forth an interesting hypothesis about the composition of the device, and I’m trying to map it out.” With that, Croaker turned to face Hermione. “The reason I’ve called you here today is due to you being one of our foremost experts on ancient runes. We recently acquired a text that needs translating. From what we’ve been able to understand, it involves the veil in the Death Chamber.”

“The-the Death Chamber? Sir, I’m currently assigned to time, before that, love. I’m not sure I’m qualified to work there.”

“Nonsense, Granger! You received an O on your N.E.W.T.S. and have already helped in the translating of several texts.”

“Will anyone else be working on it?”

“Unfortunately, no. I’ve already distributed newer assignments to those available”

“But Smith? He’s been in charge of the Death Chamber for almost thirty years now.”

“He will merely monitor. I will deliver the text to you by owl tonight, and give you an opportunity to look over our current translations. Questions?”

“No, sir. Thank you!” Hermione was gob smacked. The Death Chamber was one of the least researched areas of the Department of Mysteries. Unlocking the secrets of the veil? That would answer so many questions. Not only on the nature of death itself but the secrets of what lies beyond the tattered curtain. Hermione gave a start. Sirius…

 

—————————————————

The rest of the day passed by in a blur. Hermione went back to the time room, but she couldn’t focus on her work. Her thoughts were too occupied by what Professor Croaker had said. Eventually, her shift ended. She packed up and said good-bye to other Unspeakables she passed and made her way out of the department. By the time she left, the rest of the ministry had already cleared out. Only a few random witches and wizards here and there walked about.

The underground nature of the Ministry left her unaware of the precise time of day, but by the time she made it home, the sun was well set. Sighing with relief as she kicked off her shoes, Hermione waved her wand about her and caused her hair to pile atop her head. Continuing, she shrugged off her robes while making her way into the bedroom. Hermione pulled on a ratty vest and shorts before being greeted by an incessant tapping noise against the window.

“I’m coming. I’m coming,” Hermione said, sounding tired from the day.

On the other side of the window, a beautiful barn owl flapped its wings. In its talons was a heavy package that could only contain the text Professor Croaker said he would send. Hermione let in the owl, who immediately dropped the package on her bed before flying over to the mini roost she had set up. Wrapped in yellowing parchment, the package seemed small and insignificant.

Hermione carefully pulled apart the wrappings and uncovered a beautifully bound leather book. The cover was a faded emerald green with a Runespoor embossed on the front. Below, stood three runes. Hermione carefully read them. Raidho- travel, disruption, dislocation. Algiz- defence, warding off evil, guardian. Perthro- knowledge of one's destiny, knowledge of future matters, determining the future or your path.

Hermione read the few pages of notes. The previous translator hypothesized the mysterious veil being more than just the separation between life and death. She flipped through the text until she found the illustration mentioned in the notes. The three runes from the cover were depicted as being engraved on the stone of the arch framing the veil. What could it possibly mean?

Just as Hermione was about to grab her own parchment to begin taking notes, a curious noise sounded from the sitting room. She heard the sputter of her fire and the cough of a man whose lungs accidentally filled with ash. Rolling her eyes, Hermione made her way out to the fire and scoffed at the man whose face poked out.

“Harry Potter, you are thirty years old and you still haven’t learned to hold your breath with floo powder.”

“Nice to see you too, Hermione,” Harry said with mock annoyance. “Mind me popping in? It’ll only be a mo’”

“Of course! Just let me clear the way.” Hermione moved from in front of the fire and let Harry step out of the flames and into her sitting room. She watched him brush off his robes and fix his askew glasses.

“Cuppa?” Hermione asked, moving over to the kitchen.

“Ta! Make it a strong one!”

“Poor auror being overworked?”

“More like poor father being overworked! James won’t stop bouncing off the walls and accidentally growing his hair back every time Gin gives him a hair cut. Well, he says it's an accident,” Harry groaned, slamming down into a chair.

“And Albus?”

“He’s the only one that seems to love me still. Lily is in her terrible twos and won’t stop tearing up the place. She’s also displaying some magic already,” Harry frowned at that.

Hermione returned from the kitchen with two steaming mugs. “Are you sure?” She asked. “Two is a bit early for magic.”

“Positive. She was over at the Burrow today and Molly sent me a patronus in a tizzy, saying that she couldn’t find Lily anywhere,” Harry said, accepting the proffered tea.

“And where was she?” Hermione inquired, sitting down.

“Floating above her poor gran’s head! Nearly had a heart attack when I was told.” Harry ran a hand through his unruly hair. “Enough about me. Tell me something completely unrelated to children and quidditch.”

“Ginny still abroad?” Hermione asked, sympathetic.

“Talent scouting. Just hearing quaffle makes me miss her. She’ll be back tomorrow thankfully.”

“Let me know if you need a helping hand, will you?” Hermione waited for Harry to nod in agreement before continuing, “and I do have some news actually. I’ve been assigned a new project.”

“What on?”

“…The Death Chamber,” Hermione saw Harry stiffen. “More specifically the veil.”

“Hermione…” Harry trailed off.

“Oh, I know! It’s ever so exciting but at the same time…” Hermione paused. “Harry, what if I found a way to…you know…bring him back?

Harry audibly swallowed before nervously chugging his tea.

“I would check everything to make sure! I just can’t shake the feeling that there’s something I could do,” Hermione continued, starting to ramble.

“Hermione,” Harry put down his cup and place a sympathetic hand on Hermione’s knee, “I would love more than anything to have Sirius back, but what if he isn’t the same? Death magic is incredibly dark stuff. What if he comes back…incomplete?”

“Like an inferius? I would double and triple check all the translations before attempting anything. That’s what I’ve been assigned, by the way. Translating that is.”

“I just…I don’t know.”

“Me too. I’ll examine everything.” Hermione looked directly into Harry’s eyes, her expression fierce. “If there’s anything I can do, by god I’m going to try.”

“Just be careful?”

Hermione laughed, “since when haven’t I been careful? I’ll update you on any progress, okay?”

With that out of the way, the topic of conversation slowly slipped away from work and towards the mundane. It was never stilted. Harry and Hermione easily went from topic to topic. Discussing new potion advancements, remarking on the new shop that opened in Diagon Alley, and taking the Mickey out of each other. They spoke with the ease of a decades-long friendship. When the clock on Hermione’s mantle struck seven, Harry stood, surprised at how fast time had gone.

“That’s my cue,” He said with an easy-going grin.

Harry grabbed some floo powder and threw it into the fire. With one foot in the emerald flames, Harry twisted his body towards Hermione. “You’re coming to the Burrow tomorrow, right? Molly is trying to have the whole family ‘round. I know James and Albus are dying to hang out with their Aunt.”

“Of course I’m coming! Wouldn’t miss it. Six tomorrow?”

“And you better not be even a minute late!” With that, Harry fully submerged himself in emerald flames, shouted “The Burrow!” and he was off to pick up the kids.

Hermione smiled at her friend’s disappearing form and watched the flames turn from green to orange. She picked up the mugs and brought them into the kitchen. After a quick scourgify, they were placed back into the cupboard. A loud purring sounded behind Hermione before a big, orange puff jumped onto the countertop.

“Oh, Crookshanks, you silly cat,” Hermione said, picking up the cat despite his outraged meows. “Don’t be like that! Come along now. We have work to do.”

—————————————————

Hermione spent much of the night examining page after page but felt like she was getting nowhere. Half of the runes seemed to be a combination of three or more, and the few runes that she did understand made no sense contextually. By the time the clock struck midnight, she was beyond frustrated. She had placed the book on its side, upside down, and tried reading it backward. All to no avail. The only reason she hadn’t yet screamed in a fit of rage was the presence of Crookshanks purring atop Hermione’s lap. She would figure this out even if it took months! Surely, there was some angle she wasn’t seeing.

Looking at the clock, Hermione resigned herself to revisiting the book in the morning. Perhaps with a fresh outlook. She held Crookshanks to her chest as she cleared her bed and shut off the lights. Tomorrow would tell her everything. She hoped…

—————————————————

Tomorrow told her nothing. Hermione spent all of work attempting to figure out the translation. There was a realization waiting to occur, but Hermione couldn’t find hide nor hair of it. It was only day two of having the book and it was driving her mad. She visited Croaker during her shift and all he did was reply to her frustrations with an enigmatic smile and a “give it time.”

When Hermione returned home, she went back to it. Studying the runes, turning the pages every which way. The only message she had been able to translate on the veil page was engrave, for Christ’s sake! At this rate, she’d be eighty before making any real progress. The symbol after engrave was a complicated amalgamation of at least three runes. All Hermione could find in the mess was Fehu, which indicated some sort of failure. The only failure Hermione saw was herself.

She decided to put the runes to the back of her mind. No use trying to figure out the meanings when frustrated. Besides, she had a nice, relaxing night at the Weasley’s ahead of her. Hermione all but threw the old book onto her side table before standing up, joints cracking as she stretched. She quickly showered, spelled her hair into some semblance of order, and put on a muggle outfit.

“Crookshanks,” Hermione called, listening for meowing. “We’ve a date! James would be devastated if you didn’t make an appearance.”

The grumpy looking cat meandered into the sitting room, appearing as though this simple gesture was a great ordeal. His expression did not change in the slightest when Hermione picked him up. In fact, Hermione thought he looked even more disgruntled. Laughing at his expression, Hermione stepped into the fire with the cat and shouted “The Burrow!”

The fireplaces of other magical dwellings flitted in and out of Hermione’s vision. The process was simply nauseating at times. Better than apparating she supposed; Crookshanks really despised that method of transportation. Right now he was buried into her chest, claws clinging for dear life. In the blink of an eye, though, Hermione stepped out of the Weasley fireplace.

“Crookshanks!” James shouted, looking stretched out like a beanpole and sporting a grin full of missing teeth.

“Auntie Hermione!” Hermione sarcastically shouted in response, grinning as she handed the rattled cat to James.

“I guess you’re good too,” James replied sheepishly as Hermione gave the boy a kiss on his cheek.

“I’m glad I have your enthusiastic approval. Now, where’s your gran at?”

“Oh, she’s in the kitchen. Can I take him over to Victoire?”

“Yes, but be careful!” Hermione said, but James had run out of the room as soon as he heard “yes” leave Hermione’s lips.

Oh, the energy of children. Hermione made her way into the kitchen, smiling at the now stuffed Weasley clock. What once used to contain just Mr and Mrs Weasley and all their children now contained the spouses of said children, the grandchildren, and Hermione. Needless to say, it was quite the full and busy clock.

Hermione entered the kitchen where a grey-haired Mrs Weasley stood with Ginny and a very pregnant Daphne, who sat with her swollen feet propped up and a bucket of peeled potatoes next to her. Upon hearing someone enter the kitchen, Mrs Weasley turned and gave a warm smile before enveloping Hermione in a hug.

“It’s been too long dear!” Mrs Weasley exclaimed. “You’re looking a bit peaky, love. I hope that fancy Unspeakable job of yours isn’t being too rough on you.”

“Oh, no. Not at all Molly. I’ve just an exciting project that’s keeping me up.” Hermione moved to hug Ginny and Daphne. “It’s great to see you all. Looking excited to next month, Daph?”

“You have no idea,” Daphne laughed. “It’s not even the baby driving me nuts, it’s all my dear husband. I keep having him go to Fortescue’s so I can have some peace and quiet. The ice cream is a plus too.”

“Ron was complaining about that to me!” Hermione chuckled, realizing that Ron had been played like a fiddle. “That man always forgets he married a Slytherin.”

“And until he remembers, I see no reason to stop getting my daily helping of ice cream and quiet.”

“You’re terrible,” Ginny admonished, setting a finished plate down at the table and setting a warming charm on it. “I never made Harry go out on pointless tasks. He just did all the baby proofing for me while I got to go out and get some quiet.”

“Ice cream is not pointless!” Daphne exclaimed.

“Daphne’s quite right, dear. When I was pregnant with you, your father was making multiple trips a week to Honeydukes,” Mrs Weasley added.

“You’re all terrible,” Hermione joked.

“You’ll see soon enough, dear,” Mrs Weasley replied.

“Not that soon!”

“Why? What happened to that fellow you were seeing? The Scottish one. McKinnon was it?”

“John and I didn’t see quite eye to eye.”

“Oh, that’s a shame. He seemed like such a nice young man. You know…” Mrs Weasley entered matchmaking mode. “Angelina has an older and single brother. He’s nice, handsome, has a stable job…”

“I’m not really looking to date right now.”

“Oh, nonsense! I’ll invite him round sometime and introduce you. He was a fifth year in Hufflepuff when you started.”

Realizing that resisting Mrs Weasley was futile, Hermione simply agreed and gave a vague “lovely” that caused Ginny to snigger. The women idly chatted for a while longer as they cooked. It was a nice break from Hermione’s job and that bloody book. Of course, the silence couldn’t last forever. The patter of feet sounded and little Albus walked in wearing a pout.

“Why didn’t you say hi to me, Auntie?” Albus asked Hermione who bent down to look at him.

“Well, I had to help make your food didn’t I, Al?” Albus gave a grin and flung himself at Hermione grabbing onto her sleeve and dragging her out of the kitchen.

“I guess that’s my cue to leave!” Hermione laughed. “Are you taking me to the garden, love?”

“Mhmm,” Albus said, solemnly shaking his head. “I have to have a chat with you.”

“A chat?” Hermione questioned, thinking it was quite the formal choice of words for a four-year-old.

“That’s what mum says whenever she’s mad at dad.”

“And are you mad at me?”

“Yes, I am.” Albus mustered his voice to sound as stern as possible, not realizing the fact Hermione was holding back a smile.

Albus continued dragging Hermione out into the garden where everyone else was. Bill was tossing Dominique into the air while Fleur shouted at him in panicked French. George was laughing as he and Angelina chased Victoire, Teddy, and Roxanne. Charlie stood over by Fred, telling a story that involved roaring like a dragon. Percy was telling off an amused Ron and a snickering James while little Molly mimed Percy. It was perfect chaos.

Albus led Hermione over to Harry. “Dad, tell Auntie off like you do when I leave my toys out!”

“Why would I do that, Al?” Harry asked as he bounced a two-year-old Lily on his lap.

“Because she didn’t tell me she was here!” Albus complained.

“He said we need to have a chat like Ginny and you have.”

“Is that so?” Harry raised an eyebrow at Hermione before straightening his face. “That was very wrong of you Hermione.”

Albus began to giggle. “Now tell her you’re disappointed!”

“And I’m very disappointed in you,” Harry added as per Albus’ request.

“Good. I forgive you now,” Albus said, hugging Hermione and running off to join Victoire, Teddy, and Roxanne in running away from his Aunt and Uncle.

Hermione collapsed into the chair next to Harry. “You know, we used to be that energetic. What happened?”

“We got old?” Harry suggested.

“That’s right. And how is my little Lily pad?” Hermione said, turning to baby Lily, her voice spiking up a tad.

“Hermy, Hermy, Hermy!” Lily exclaimed, repeating Hermione’s butchered name.

“Her-my-oh-nee,” Hermione said clearly.

“Hermy!” Lily replied, giggling like mad.

“You’ll get there someday, kiddo.”

“Yeah, she’s really into repetition right now. And soft. She’s describing everything as soft,” Harry said.

As if to prove Harry’s point, Lily grabbed hold of Hermione’s hair and began to pet it while shouting “Soft! Hermy soft!”

“See?”

“She does have a way with words,” Hermione laughed as Lily continued to play with her hair while Harry and Hermione idly chatted. One by one, the kids tired out and as if sensing they were on the verge of declaring boredom, Mrs Weasley came outside to herd everyone back in.

Dinner was delicious, as always when Mrs Weasley was the chef. Hermione practically moaned with every bite. Sure, she did just fine for herself and considered herself a decent cook, but this had nostalgia involved. One bite and she transformed into her younger, bushier haired, buck-toothed self. When pudding came around, Hermione was stuffed but sheer will alone let her eat a slice of treacle tart. Looking around, she saw the same did not hold true for Harry, who seemed incredibly focused on inhaling his slice while Ginny looked at him fondly. James, still holding Crookshanks on his lap, followed his father’s lead.

After everyone finished eating, Mrs Weasley declared one of her many relatives should do the dishes in her stead. Bill and Hermione volunteered, letting everyone else go outside to put together a game of kiddie quidditch. The work went relatively easy, both Hermione and Bill were dab hands at charms. The two joked around and chatted about children and work while they watched the dishes scourgify and march themselves into their proper places.

“It’s not so bad,” Bill said referring to cleaning up the kitchen.

“Not at all. Could be the muggle way, scrubbing them all.”

“Oh, mum only does that if she’s sore with one of us. Forty years old and she still punishes me like I’m twelve,” Bill joked. He moved his arms up to tie his hair back, a simple bracelet with a wood carved charm was on his right wrist.

“Same with my parents. I’m afraid it’s never going to ch-”Hermione stopped in her tracks when she saw Bill’s bracelet. “Bill, what’s that symbol?”

Bill finished tying up his hair and looked down at his wrist. “Oh, this? Mate of mine I worked with in Egypt made it. Chap’s big on runes and gave me this to help ward away evil and all that junk.”

“What rune is it? I’ve never seen one like it before.” Hermione was lying. In fact, she had seen one almost identical to it and it was written on a page in the book currently sitting on her side table.

“Actually a combination from what I remember. See here?” Bill asked tracing the outline of one rune. “This here’s Fehu for good luck. This one is made within Fehu, and it’s Raidho. Supposed to help with seeing the right path to take and making that decision. Then Fehu and Raidho work together to make Kenaz, which is about power and knowledge. He said when they’re combined like that it makes each one stronger and is supposed to help me out. Think he must’ve been right seeing as I never got into a spot of trouble when I worked out there.”

“Yes, of course! I-are we done with the dishes? I have to head out. Just realized something.” Hermione hugged Bill. “Oh, you’re just fantastic! Tell Fleur to kiss you loads for me!”

Hermione practically ran out of the kitchen, leaving a bemused and concerned Bill in her wake. She went out into the garden where she made her goodbyes, took Crookshanks from James, and apparated away. Hermione held her breath as she experienced the sensation of being pushed through a tube and only winced slightly as Crookshanks clung on for dear life.

When she landed in her flat, she made a beeline to the book and opened it up. With a parchment next to her, she separated the runes. Fehu, Raidho, Kenaz. She looked deeper and found Algiz, Wunjo, and Thurisaz. One mark remained and she found Gebo. She’s solved it. Combined, though, the meanings were much different than those created by the rune Bill wore.

Fehu created a sign of hope and success, creation and destruction. Raidho created travel and choosing the right path. Kenaz created the power to create your own reality. Algiz created protection against evil, a shield. Wunjo created joy, comfort, prosperity. Thurisaz created conflict and change. Gebo created sacrifice and generosity.

Hermione looked at the rest of the text. Engrave at the base of the veil. That must be it! Another section said intent and restoration. She figured it out! My god, she could kiss Bill over and over again! Hermione threw on her Unspeakable robes and fastened a cloak over them. Grabbing a copious amount of floo powder, she hurled the powder into the fire, causing a mist of green to appear around her while her front was illuminated emerald. Running into the flames, she shouted “Department of Ministry” and disappeared.

—————————————————

The ministry was empty except for the lone night guard manning the wand station. Hermione shifted impatiently as the wizard took her wand, verified it was hers, and slowly handed the wand back. She all but ran to the lift. She attempted to pace around the confines of the small space as it whizzed throughout the ministry. When the doors opened and a calm voice said “Department of Mysteries,” Hermione ran out again. Now that she was fully alone, she had no shame in sprinting down the hall, book clutched to her chest, before opening the door to her department. In the entrance chamber, she furiously counted the doors before wrenching open the door she needed.

The room was so quiet that one could hear a pin drop. The veil stood in the very centre. The fabric innocently fluttered from a non-existent breeze. As Hermione stepped closer, voices began to emanate from the veil. Whispers swirled around her. A light yet beautiful singing sounded in the air. Coming from nowhere and everywhere. Hermione put the book off to the side and opened it to the symbol.

“Flagrate,” she whispered, causing a fiery rope to spew out of her wand and hit the ground. Slow and with care, Hermione began to draw the line. The more she drew, the louder the voices grew. The once beautiful song grew dark and screeched in her ear. She ignored it though and focused only on one thought. She repeated Sirius’s name over and over in her head.

When she finished drawing the symbol, the voices abruptly stopped. The fiery glow of the rune seemed to call to her. All sense of logic and reason escaped her mind. Her feet moved as if on their own to step atop the rune. The whispers started again. Echoing throughout the chamber.

“Join us,” They hissed.

“Enter the veil.”

“Reach out to us.”

“Reach out to me,” Sirius’s voice sounded from behind the veil. “Save me. Bring me back to Harry.”

“Sirius?” Hermione called, hypnotized, arms stretched out, pushing the fabric of the veil out of the way. Further and further she moved until her face was pressed against the fabric. Wind suddenly roared throughout the chamber. It pushed against Hermione. The voices screamed at her. Her body started to siphon into the veil, changing before her eyes. Hermione’s screams of fear joined the voices of the veil. Little by little, she was absorbed into the veil—into what she thought was death.

Then, it stopped.


	2. Down the Rabbit Hole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione meets the Lupins

Hermione fell down, down, down. Wind rushed past her, fanning out her curly hair. Voices continued to move around her, but the wind howling in her ears made them impossible to understand. Amidst her panic, Hermione felt similar to Alice falling down the rabbit hole.

When Hermione managed to turn her head to the side, she saw what appeared to be various lives flashing before her eyes. A child helping his mother put clothes up to dry. A husband smiling at his wife while their daughter chose her wand, her brother standing close by. A woman, frazzled from stress looking away from her work and smiling. A group of friends. A green light.

Through the frenzy, Hermione experienced another sensation. It was not unlike apparition. She was being squeezed through a tube, her body shrinking and distorting. Her emotions fluctuated and she lost her calm exterior. Her hands moved in front of her face as she fell. Hermione saw the dimpled hands of a child, not that of a woman.

The shrinking and squeezing continued. Pain began to shoot up her body. She felt the scar on her arm split open and agonizing pain hit her chest. Fear clouded her vision, blinding Hermione to the fact that ground was slowly growing closer and closer. Green, over-grown tufts of grass seemed to rise higher and higher. A force began to act against Hermione, breaking her fall. Soon, she felt more like a feather drifting downwards. Her robes were too large and billowing against her shrunk body. She hit the ground with a soft thud. The voices stopped.

“Dad! Dad, come help!” Hermione heard a boy shout. She then heard the frantic thud of little feet on the grass.

“Oh my! Remus, love, are you okay?” A woman’s voice sounded. “Yes, Lyall, there’s a girl here. Come stand by me, dear.”

Hermione stirred and attempted to sit up before falling back down into the grass. Remus? Did she hear that correctly? She tried to open her eyes, but she was in pain and groggy from her fall. I must be dead, she mused. I’ve died and I’m in heaven. Remus is here. Fred, Moody, Dumbledore, Sirius, they must all be here somewhere. Hermione felt someone pull her into their arms.

“Hush. You’re alright. You’re safe,” the calming voice of a man spoke. Rocking Hermione back and forth, the man gasped as he examined her broken body. “Your arm,” he whispered, seeing MUDBLOOD raw and carved into her flesh.

“Hope, grab the dittany from the kitchen! She’s been hurt! Remus, go help your mother.”

“Where am…” Hermione tried to speak, but pain and exhaustion overtook her. She managed to open her eyes slightly and saw Professor Lupin stare back. “Prof- “

“Shh. It’s alright. You’re going to be just fine,” the voice soothed. “  _Dormientes_  ”

With that, Hermione’s vision darkened. Against her will, she began to fall asleep. No matter how hard she tried to fight, darkness came. Vaguely, she felt herself being lifted off the ground and moved. She paid no mind to the sensation.

—————————————————

Hermione shifted, the heavy weight of blankets pressed against her body and something shifted atop the covers. Absently, she swatted at the mysterious thing.

“Crookshanks, geroff. Trying to sleep…” Hermione mumbled, rolling over.

“I’m not a Crookshanks,” a confused voice sounded.

Confused herself, Hermione’s eyes flew open and she turned to face the voice. There sat a familiar face with fewer scars and age. There was no mistaking him—Remus Lupin in the flesh. All amber eyes and floppy hair.

Panicked, Hermione pulled the covers to her chest and startled away from the boy. “Impossible,” she gasped.

Just then, a beautiful woman with a kind face and the same amber eyes walked in carrying a tray loaded with tea and biscuits. “You’re up, thank goodness! Remus here’s been worried sick keeping watch. Are you alright dear? Quite the show of magic I must say. At least, I suppose it was from what Lyall’s told me. I’m Hope, by the way,” Hope said, her voice thick with a Welsh accent.

“I’m-I’m Hermione,” she said, attempting to stay calm. “What happened?”

Hope’s smile flickered. “We’re not quite sure, dear. We were hoping you could help us fill in the pieces. Biscuit?”

Hermione gratefully took a biscuit from the plate. When she brought it to her lips, she saw the bandages that adorned her arms. Looking down, she also noticed bandages around her torso, the bulk of the gauze visible underneath her nightdress. Piece by piece, she remembered the events leading up to this moment.

“Am I dead?” Hermione gasped, dropping the biscuit.

“What? Goodness no!” Hope leaned towards Hermione, checking her forehead for warmth. “Thankfully not. You don’t remember what happened to you? We found you in quite the state.”

Deciding it best to feign memory loss, Hermione solemnly shook her head. She was going to speak as little as possible until she found out exactly what was going on, and why she was currently sitting next to a young Remus Lupin with his mother looking after her.

“Not to worry dear. It’s all over now. Remus, stay with Hermione. I’m going to tell your father she’s woken up,” Hope said before standing up and leaving the room.

Remus sat there silently for a few minutes, just staring at Hermione. He nervously fidgeted back and forth, looking as if he was bursting with questions. His mouth opened and closed a few times before he settled on holding out his hand and saying: “hello, I’m Remus.”

“Yes, I know,” Hermione said while shaking his hand. Remus flushed as he realized, of course, she knew his name, his mum already said it several times in front of her.

“I’m…not really used to talking to other children,” Remus said nervously. “Mum and dad don’t let me.”

“Why’s that?”

“It’s nothing,” Remus said quickly, realizing he’d made a mistake. He switched gears, “it was really scary, you know. You falling from the sky bleeding like that. I thought you were dead until you started to move.”

“I thought I had died,” Hermione replied quietly.

“We fixed you up, though! Well, my dad did. He’s good at fixing people up,” Remus said, breaking eye contact with Hermione as he said this.

Hermione resisted the urge to pull the boy into her arms. This Remus didn’t carry the burden on his shoulders, weighing them down, but she could still see the pain in his eyes and the careful, nervous way he held himself. It was heart-breaking to see those emotions play out on a boy who couldn’t be older than nine or so.

“How old are you?” Hermione asked curiously.

“I’m ten!” Remus proudly said, puffing up his chest. “How old are you?”

“I-” How _old was she?_  “I don’t know.”

“How do you not know?” He asked.

“I-” Hermione trailed off.

She and Remus returned to silence, awaiting the return of Remus’s parents. Off in some other room of the home, Hermione could hear quiet voices. After a few more moments of silence, however, the voices grew louder and footsteps could be heard moving through the house. Then Lyall popped his head into the room.

“Remus, could you help your mother and me? Hermione has a guest,” he said.

“Who’s the guest?” Remus asked curiously.

“Remus,” Lyall said sternly, face relaxing as his son stood up and followed him out of the room.

Then, to the shock of Hermione, Dumbledore entered. He was much younger than Hermione remembered him being. He was still old, but the lines in his face weren’t etched so deep and his beard was a good foot shorter than his older (dead) counterpart.

“Professor?” She gasped unthinkingly.

“Ah,” Dumbledore smiled, sitting in the chair Remus just unoccupied. “Most strange indeed. You appear to be a muggleborn, but know who I am?”

“I-” Hermione shut her mouth, a debate mentally raging inside her head. She remembered all the trouble Dumbledore had caused Harry. All the manipulation and lies. She also remembered his help.

“And,” Dumbledore continued, smiling as if he were oblivious to Hermione’s internal war, “I also know that there was no Hermione Granger down for Hogwarts until two days ago. Either you’ve suddenly appeared into existence, the book made a mistake, or you haven’t even been born yet…and it would seem, judging by your expression, that the latter is correct. So tell me, Miss Granger, how did you come to be here?”

Hermione adjusted herself to sitting upright and making herself appear as large as possible. “You see Sir, I’m not entirely sure myself. I work in the Department of Mysteries.”

“You look no older than ten, my dear girl.”

“That’s just the thing, Professor. I’m thirty, and I think I must be dead. Everyone I’ve seen so far-” Hermione abruptly cut off. It didn’t matter if she was dead, in the past, or in an alternate world, rule one: don’t reveal the events of your timeline.

“Is deceased in your world?” Dumbledore asked, blue eyes gleaming with fascination over his half-moon spectacles. “How interesting…”

“I shouldn’t be speaking,” Hermione said.

“Oh, it’s far too late for that,” Dumbledore mused. “I do believe that as soon as you entered, your past and future ceased to exist. I can assure you, however, that you are very much alive.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Well, Miss Granger, I think I would know if I were dead.”

“No-not that. That my world no longer exists.”

“It depends on how you entered this world. Time-turner?”

“No, sir,” Hermione paused, “…a veil. In the Death Chamber of the Department of Mysteries. I was assigned the translating of a book and was careless.”

“You do not strike me as the careless sort. You must have cared very much about what was contained behind the veil.”

“Who…”

“Or whom,” Dumbledore amended. “I am not familiar with the magic behind the veil, but I assume it is very different from a time-turner. You see, even before you spin a time-turner, the change has already taken place. You already exist in the past, but it is still the present. Even though the precise time-travel will occur in the future, it’s already written in stone. You will travel to the past. All events that you change by going back, already have occurred in your present. As it were, what will happen, has happened.”

“But how does that explain the veil?” Hermione asked, clinging to Dumbledore’s every word.

“That, as I mentioned previously, is something very different. It seems to me that since your name just appeared, you were plopped into this timeline—not a precise event. This would mean that your world is one different from this. A new timeline has been created with you now existing here instead of there. You are the Hermione Granger of this timeline, and no other you can exist. Time will erase a paradox. The future you know is erased, malleable,” Dumbledore explained.

“You, you mean I can change it?” Hermione asked, already brainstorming.

“Depending on the timeline, you may not need to change anything.”

“Does Voldemort exist here?” Hermione asked abruptly, before continuing fiercely, “if he does, I have to change everything.”

“He is not defeated? I had hoped otherwise.” Sorrow filled Dumbledore’s voice.

“He is, but not without extreme suffering. I know how to defeat him!” Hermione exclaimed, jumping into action mode. She would not grieve for her lost friends, not if she could make their lives better. Give Harry the family he deserved…

“It is not that simple,” Dumbledore sighed, sounding ancient. “With a different timeline comes the potential for a different way to defeat him. Your existence has already changed even the littlest of details. We do not know for certain whether your knowledge will still hold true.”

“But, Sir!” Hermione protested, sounding outraged. “If there’s a way, surely we must- “

“Not until we’ve done the research, I’m afraid. We could make the outcome better than your future, or we could just as easily make it worse. Our first step in this whole conundrum is situating you into this world with none being the wiser. Then, we may discuss the downfall of Voldemort,” Dumbledore said calmly.

Realizing when she had to admit defeat, or at least devise a strategy on her own, Hermione acquiesced. “Fine. And how do we go about situating me into this world?”

“Well, we are fortunate that you have landed where you did. The Lupin’s are good people, as you are probably already aware. Their son has a unique condition,” Dumbledore waited for Hermione to confirm her knowledge of this, “and his mother is a muggle, which makes placing you even easier. From now on, you will be the muggleborn relative of Hope. And, given the recent surge in attacks against those who are not pureblood, your family has been murdered, causing you to use your budding magic to apparate to the Lupins. With you being a child in need and a relative of Hope, the Lupins take you in and raise you as their own alongside Remus.”

“Will they agree to that?”

“Why, they already have,” Dumbledore said. “I have informed them that your family was murdered and that you are orphaned with neither memories of the attack nor your family. Hope Lupin was in tears and begged me to let you stay with them. They believe that I am currently explaining magic and the situation to you.”

Hermione was speechless. “I know things about Remus though. What happens…”

“Remember, what happened no longer exists. The potential is there, but the probability is severely lowered. The new history of Mister Lupin is yet to be written,” Dumbledore reminded Hermione. “Speaking of written, I have a few official pieces of documentation should you choose to accept the Lupins as your new family.”

“Yes, I-of course,” Hermione said, watching Dumbledore pull out a blank parchment from his emerald robes before tapping it with his wand, the inky words to a contract appearing. Smiling, Dumbledore pulled out a quill and ink, offering the two to Hermione. She read over the contract and signed. Somewhere in Hogwarts, the registry glowed and Hermione Granger changed into Hermione Lupin.

—————————————————

“So you’re going to be my new sister?” Remus asked, face etched with worry.

“That’s right. And don’t look like that,” Hermione said primly, “I know all about you being a werewolf.”

She thought it best to get that furry issue out of the way. Then she could work on Remus growing up without the self-hatred she remembered from his other life.

“You what!” Remus exclaimed, looking up at his dad who merely smiled, “you don’t mind?”

“Well, you don’t seem very scary,” Hermione said, wrinkling her nose.

“You’re muggleborn though! You don’t know anything about werewolves. I-I’m a monster,” Remus insisted sadly, dropping his voice so his mother and father couldn’t here.

“Don’t be stupid,” Hermione said. “There are far more grotesque things in this world than a boy with overgrown hair and worn-out jumpers.”

“You don’t talk like a kid,” Remus pointed out, deciding to ignore Hermione’s comment on him not being scary; she just didn’t understand.

“I’m precocious,” Hermione sniffed, turning up her nose and walking over to Hope to help with cooking dinner, leaving Remus to look forlornly at his father who was attempting not to laugh at Hermione’s response.

“I think Hermione is going to be good for you, Remus,” Lyall said, smiling at the frowning boy. Jokingly, Lyall moved his hands to Remus’s mouth and forced the boy’s mouth to turn into a smile.

“I guess she’s okay for a girl,” Remus announced, maintaining his smile as he pushed Lyall’s hands away. Despite his attitude towards the girl, secretly he was overjoyed. Sure, she had no idea what being a werewolf meant, but she hadn’t recoiled. She’d looked at him like his parents did, not like the witches and wizards in the countless villages they had moved from once the secret came out. Perhaps he wouldn’t be so alone.

—————————————————

A few weeks passed and Hermione adjusted quite well to the Lupins. She loved this glimpse into Remus’s life. Hope Lupin was one of the kindest women Hermione had ever met, she was often reminded of Molly Weasley. Lyall Lupin was stern at times, but also friendly and loved cracking jokes. Remus had traits from both parents and then some that were all his own. After the surprise of having a new sister and learning she didn’t care if he was a werewolf, the boy expressed his full elation and came out of his shell, excited to have someone his age with whom to play.

Every day after breakfast, Remus would drag Hermione outside to explore the woods around Lupin cottage. The cottage was on the very outskirts of a wizarding village in Newborough, Wales. A good distance away from Holyhead, the second largest wizarding settlement in Wales and home of the Holyhead Harpies, but not so far as to cause Hope Lupin to be without a job.

Before Remus dragged Hermione out of the kitchen, Hope and Lyall would kiss the two children goodbye on the foreheads, tell them to be good and behave, and head out to work. Lyall would magically set the fireplace ablaze and floo away, while Hope would grab the keys to a shabby car and drive up to Holyhead where she was an insurance officer.

Then, the moment Lyall disappeared and Hope drove off, Remus would spring into action. Hermione would giggle as the boy yanked on her sleeve and guided her out to the forest. Hermione was surprised to learn that Remus adored magical creatures. The forest was full of them, and Remus would point out various magical and non-magical creatures that roamed the woods. His favourite spot was an old oak tree where a colony of bowtruckles resided.

Every time he and Hermione travelled into the woods, he would guide her to the old oak tree and they would sit and play with the bowtruckles, and the creatures would immediately start sniffing Remus’s worn-out pockets for doxy eggs and other treats. This particular time Remus and Hermione were there, a few new-born Bowtruckles, Hermione was unsure if that was the right terminology, made an appearance.

“I’m going to name you Phillip,” Remus said, sitting cross-legged and examining one of the new, tiny Bowtruckles.

Hermione laughed as she played with her own collection, “why Phillip? What if it’s a she?”

“Then Philip would make a lovely girl’s name,” Remus replied. “What are you naming that one?”

“Hmm…” Hermione thought for a moment, “I think Doris suits her.”

“What if Doris is a boy?” Remus teased, causing Hermione to stick out her tongue at him.

It was strange, Hermione thought. Mentally, she was thirty. Physically, she was ten. At times, it felt more like Auntie Hermione playing with her nieces and nephews than child Hermione playing with other children. Dumbledore said he would find a solution to match her mental self with her physical self, and she hoped he would find a way soon. It was exhausting doubting whether she was acting like a proper ten-year-old or reflecting her actual age.

Hermione and Remus played in the woods a while before heading back. The dog days of summer prevented the two from having a good understanding of the time, but as they approached the house they noticed their parents were clunking about the kitchen. When the two children entered the house, they saw that Hope and Lyall were not alone. Dumbledore sat at the table, sipping tea from a floral cup and wearing robes of dark blue with swirling stars. That man had impeccable timing and fashion.

“Ah, Hermione,” Dumbledore smiled. “I hope you are adjusting well to your new life?”

“Yes, sir,” Hermione replied. “I feel right at home.”

Hermione saw Hope smile in her direction at these words.

“Excellent, excellent. Would it be a bother if I had a private word?” Dumbledore waited for Hermione to agree before standing up and leaving the room with her in tow.

“Do you have it, Professor?” Hermione asked as soon as the door closed behind them and Dumbledore cast an imperturbable charm.

“Indeed, I do. Professor Slughorn whipped it up for me this morning,” Dumbledore said, pulling out a small vial with orange contents swirling inside.

“And it won’t affect my memories?”

“Not at all. Upon drinking, you’ll only feel a mild headache as your mind slowly immatures.”

Hermione took the vial from Dumbledore and uncorked it with a small “pop”. She smelt the liquid before deciding it seemed safe and drinking the contents. Immediately, a pressure grew inside her head and a headache made itself known.

“You weren’t kidding about the side-effect, Professor,” Hermione said.

“Unfortunately, no. Owl me in the morning with the results and if something goes wrong, I’ll be over again. Until then, I have business that I must attend to, as it’s almost the start of term,” Dumbledore said smiling pleasantly. Then, he walked back into the kitchen with Hermione, made his goodbyes, and apparated out.

“What was that all about, dear?” Hope asked Hermione as she set the table.

“Oh, he just wanted to make sure I was doing alright and if I remembered anything about the…the attack,” Hermione replied, moving to the stove to help Lyall cook.

“Do you?” Remus piped up curiously, ignoring Hope hissing  _Remus_!

“No,” Hermione said sadly, “but I think that’s a good thing.”

“I think so too, love,” Lyall said. “Now let’s get this food onto the table.”

—————————————————

After Dumbledore’s potion worked wonders on Hermione and reverted her mental maturity to that of a ten-year-old girl, things became much easier. She felt more on the same wavelength as Remus, and even though her memories were still there, the potion removed the barriers she put up. As the months passed, she started to view Remus truly as her brother, not her old, dead professor. To her, that version of Remus no longer existed. Sure, she would feel homesick at times, longing for Ron and Harry, missing her huge family, but then she would remember how much she could help them. George would never lose his twin; Molly would never lose her son. Harry would have his parents and never be the chosen one. The list went on and on.

Besides, Hermione had a new family. Whenever Hope hugged her and read bedtime stories, or Lyall spun her around as she giggled, or Remus dragged her into the woods to play, she knew. Even when Remus had to transform and was locked into a protected shed for the night, she stayed up with a worried Lyall and Hope and watched over Lyall healing Remus in the morning. By the time Remus’s eleventh birthday rolled around, Hermione had been with the Lupin’s just shy of a year.

“Hermione, love, grab another plate,” Lyall said as he set the table. Remus’s favourites were atop it.

“Sure, dad!” Hermione called back as she stood on tip-toe to reach the plates.

“Hope, the cake’s going alright?”

“Nearly finished!” Hope announced as she worked on frosting a chocolate cake.

“I don’t know why I couldn’t just use magic for it,” Lyall grumped.

“And where’s the fun in that? Hermione, could you get Remus from the woods? He’s found a magical cat thing.” Hope asked Hermione, who nodded and ran out towards the forest.

She ran through the woods, looking left and right for Remus and a kneazle. Finally, over the sound of a brook, she heard a meow and a laugh. Remus sat against the riverbank with an extremely fluffy brown kneazle who had large, bat-like ears. The kneazle was rolling all over the ground and pushing against Remus.

“I think he likes you,” Hermione said with a smile, laughing as Remus jumped.

“I think so. Most cats don’t; I guess they smell dog on me,” Remus said, returning to petting the kneazle. His movements were precise due to his tired limbs and he wore a sallow complexion due to the upcoming moon.

“Mum and dad are ready for you to come back,” Hermione said.

“You know, it’s really not a surprise when they push you out of your home for an hour so they can finish cooking and preparing.”

“They try,” Hermione said, offering her hand to Remus and helping pick him up. “Let’s have your kneazle tag along?”

“Would you like that?” Remus asked the kneazle, who yawned and Remus interpreted that as a ‘yes’.

Picking up the fluffy creature, Remus joined Hermione and they started walking back to the cottage. The kneazle purred in Remus’s arms the whole journey while Remus and Hermione chatted and joked around. When they reached the house, the two rushed inside.

“Dad! Remus got a pet in the woods! He’s lovely too!” Hermione exclaimed as she rushed into the kitchen before Remus. There sat Albus Dumbledore, giving Hermione serious déjà vu. Her parents looked excited in the background, though.

“I’m sorry. I did not wish to intrude on the festivities, but I have a gift for Remus,” Dumbledore said smiling kindly.

“A gift? For me?” Remus asked, placing the kneazle onto the floor.

“I have a letter for you, to be precise,” Dumbledore said, pulling a letter with emerald ink out of his robes, now a startling shade of fuchsia, and handing it to Remus.

When Remus read the outside of the envelope, he gasped. “Is this-am I?”

“Open it, Remus,” Lyall said with unconfined joy and pride.

Remus obliged and opened the envelope. “Dear Mr Lupin,” Remus started, “we are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!”

Remus was shaking with excitement. “Is this real?” He demanded.

“It really is!” Hope exclaimed, cutting Dumbledore off. “The Professor’s just finished explaining everything.”

“What about the full moon?” Remus asked.

“We’re planting a magical tree called the Whomping Willow,” Dumbledore explained. “The tree protects the entrance to a small shack the locals believe is haunted. Am I presumptuous in assuming your acceptance?”

“Yes! I mean, no! I accept!” Remus’s grin spread from ear-to-ear. Hermione gave a bright laugh seeing Remus’s joy.

“I have this for you as well, Miss Lupin,” Dumbledore said to Hermione, handing her another green-inked envelope.

“Thank you, Professor,” Hermione said with a grin.

“Looks like you’re not getting rid of me yet, Remus!” She exclaimed, turning to the boy. He was reading his letter over and over, hardly believing his eyes.

“That’s fine by me!” He said, eyes still glued to the parchment.

In the silence of her children reading their letters, Hope spoke up. “Will you join us for tea, Professor?” She politely inquired.

“I’m afraid I cannot. I wish you a very happy birthday, though, Remus,” Dumbledore said with a kind smile as he rose from his seat. He approached the fire, threw in some floo powder, and delicately lifted his fuchsia robes before stepping in.

When Dumbledore left, Hermione tore open the envelope containing her own letter. It was exactly like the one she received her first time around. The only exceptions being her name, the booklist, and no warning for first years hoping to bring broomsticks. What would Hogwarts be like the second time around?


	3. Familiar Faces

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the comments and kudos! I am absolutely blown away! :) Enjoy this chapter and Hogwarts is next! And as always, I don't have a beta so if there are any particularly awful typos, just let me know.

The summer continued much the same as it had the previous. Hermione and Remus would begin their days bright and early, venture into the forest, and search for creatures. The only real difference to everything was that Remus now had a spring in his step. Before receiving his letter, Remus was always too afraid to learn more about magic for fear of disappointment. Now, once Lyall came home, Remus would beg him to pull out old textbooks to read to him and Hermione.

Personally, Hermione was overjoyed that he was able to attend Hogwarts. Of course, she knew he would, but the man who was once her professor was now family. And to put it quite simply, she couldn’t bear the thought of attending Hogwarts again without him and seeing so many ghosts. As every day of the heat-filled summer passed, Remus grew lighter and lighter in his steps while Hermione’s grew heavy and dull.

But at night, Hermione would wait until everyone was asleep. Remus would hole himself up in his room, reading his dad’s old textbooks or playing with the kneazle whom he named Art after a member of his mum’s favourite group. Soon after Remus, Hope would kiss Lyall and Hermione goodnight and head into her room. The scratch of a record would indicate the beginning of her nightly ritual, and when the A-side stopped, that would be Lyall’s cue to tuck in as well.

Then Hermione, after waiting a sufficient amount of time, would put out all the lights and tiptoe into Lyall and Hope’s room. Sneaking over piles and around furniture, she would creep over to the bedside table where Lyall’s wand rest. With all the care in the world, she would gently pick the wand up, turn around, and tiptoe her way out of the room.

The rest of the night Hermione would put herself to work. Hermione had already gathered a stash of Lyall’s potion bottles and with a delicate hand, she would duplicate the bottles before placing the wand to her temple and extracting memory after memory. The horcruxes, her time at Hogwarts, the Department of Mysteries, her parents, Harry and Ron…Then, after the memory was placed in a bottle, she would neatly affix a label.

Hermione slaved away all night, but she understood the importance. As Dumbledore had said, there was no way to go back and things might be different this time around. She could take no chances. Plus, with each passing day, the memories from her previous life grew increasingly dim. She had to remember.

————————————————

One morning, after her usual night time routine, Hermione sat at the breakfast table, holding back yawn after yawn. Groggily, she scooped corned beef hash onto her plate, not noticing the concerned looks Lyall and Hope were giving each other.

“You know, dear,” Hope began, “that you can tell us anything, yes?”

Hermione snapped her head towards Hope. “I’m fine,” She insisted. “I just haven’t been sleeping well, is all.”

“All the same, just let us know if anything ever bothers you. I know that Hogwarts is going to be a big change, but you needn’t be afraid.”

“Hope’s right,” Lyall said. “Hogwarts was some of the best years of my life. You and Remus,” he paused to smile at his son, “are going to have so much fun that you’ll forget all about us. Besides, cheer up, we’re heading into London today!”

“I’m not worried about Hogwarts, dad. I’m more worried about what you and mum are going to do without us, isn’t that right Remus?” Hermione said with a cheeky smile.

“Yeah, dad,” Remus said, agreeing with Hermione. “What are you going to do without us?

“I think we’ll get along much the same as we did before you lot came around,” Lyall replied while checking his watch. “Speaking of getting along, we’d best get a move on while it’s still early. Can’t believe we’re all out of floo powder.”

“Is it already time? Hop up and get ready!” Hope poked Remus with her spoon to emphasize her point.

Fifteen minutes later, the Lupins were squeezed into their little, rusted car. Five minutes to the A55 and then 30 more minutes later, the car stopped in front of an inconspicuous looking shopfront. The sign was a faded blue with the word “Antiques” etched into the wood.

“It looks boring,” Remus said with a pout as they unloaded out of the car.

“It’s only the outside that looks boring, I’m sure it’s much more exciting on the inside, right?” Hermione asked looking to her parents for confirmation. Like Remus said, it was very boring.

“Well, I’m afraid we don’t see quite eye-to-eye on this one,” Hope said, standing as if the building repulsed her. “I’m not sure what you see, but it’s absolutely repulsive to me.”

“Really?” Remus asked fascinated. He then began describing the shopfront in detail to his mother before Lyall shushed him.

“I’m afraid we haven’t got all day, son” Lyall said with a smile. Offering his arm to Hope he explained, “as long as you hold on to me it’s not a problem. I’ll break through all the barriers trying to keep you away.”

“If you say so,” Hope said as she took Lyall’s arm. Immediately, the repulsion left her body. With a much more relaxed posture, Hope approached the shop.

The bell tinkled above the door and an older man gave a toothy smile. The interior had two large, lit fireplaces with little signs saying “incoming” and “outgoing”. Next to them was a large pot full of floo powder with the lid firmly shut.

“Hello,” the older man said. “Where are you off to today?

Lyall placed his hands proudly on the shoulders of Remus and Hermione. “These two are off to Hogwarts in September! How much for a trip to Diagon Alley?”

“That’ll be 5 knuts a person, if you please.” Reaching into his robes, Lyall drew out his coin purse and counted out the money required. Satisfied with the amount, the older wizard pulled out his wand and banished the coins. Then, he waved it at the pot of floo powder and the lid began to float.

“Each adult with a child,” he instructed.

Lyall paired up with Remus and Hope with Hermione. Hermione stood next to Hope and held her hand, smiling up at the woman and trying to reassure her. It certainly is not pleasant the first time and Hermione had no idea if Hope had travelled this way before. Gently, Hermione tugged on Hope’s hand and took her over the fire marked “outgoing”. Grabbing a fistful of powder, Hermione tossed the powder into the flames. Then she turned to look back at Lyall and Remus.

“Go on,” Lyall motioned. “It’s perfectly safe.”

Hermione placed a small foot into the fire and tugged Hope in to join her. Once both were firmly planted in the fireplace, Hermione shouted “Diagon Alley.”

————————————————

Emerald green clouded Hermione’s vision. Hope’s hand tightened on her own as fireplaces whizzed in and out of sight. Occasionally, they would hear a noise from one of the homes they passed. After what seemed an uncomfortably long time had passed, they stopped moving and the fire died down.

Stepping out, Hermione’s heart filled with joy. This was the Diagon Alley of her childhood, well, previous childhood anyway. The shops were brightly lit with all manner of posters pasted to the brick. Many of the shops were the same, barring a few notable exceptions such as the Weasley shop.

But what struck her the most was the people. Everyone went relaxed about their day. Children ran through the street. Hermione caught a little girl furiously explode an ice lolly that her brother held. Everyone was at ease, there was no large war yet, and it reminded her of simpler times. Of course, Diagon Alley returned to its former glory in the aftermath of the second war, but it seemed greyer, more aged. Fortescue’s was gone in Hermione’s post-war timeline. Ollivander was forced to relocate. This was the Diagon Alley she loved and remembered and she vowed to never let it change.

“Hermione, dear, did you hear us?” Hope asked, shaking Hermione out of her thoughts. Remus and Lyall stood close by, dusting soot off their clothes.

“No, sorry, mum. What were you saying?”

“We’re off to the bank. Gringotts, was it?” Hope looked to Lyall for confirmation.

The bank stood proud and imposing. Two guards waved their wands over the Lupin family as they entered, but no probity probes were in sight. They must have come later. Hope waved Remus and Hermione off to the side while she and Lyall approached the front desk where a gnarled goblin with a sneering face sat.

“I heard there are dragons here,” Remus whispered to Hermione.

“I wouldn’t be surprised. I bet there's some in the really old vaults. Have you been to Gringotts before, Remus?”

“Not since… _before **,”**_ He emphasized. “Mum and Dad thought it would be too dangerous for someone- “

“You stop that thought right there Remus John Lupin. You’re not dangerous, and mum and dad adore you and know you would never hurt a fly,” Hermione said firmly.

“I know that. It was just hard in the beginning. Still is…” Hermione grabbed onto Remus’s hand and squeezed, attempting to comfort the boy.

“You know,” Hermione began, trying to change the topic, “What house do you reckon you’ll get in?”

“Nice topic change,” Remus teased. “We’ve been asking each other that question the entire summer.”

“Yes, but now that we’re here it feels all the more real. We’ve only got a fortnight left.”

“I think it’ll feel real once I get my wand.”

“I suppose I’ll ask you then,” Hermione said with a smile.

“You’re impossible. You know that, right?”

“I am fully aware. Look up, Remus. Mum and dad are coming back.”

Lyall walked over to them, chatting to a goblin while Hope stood a decent pace away from the creature. Once they were close enough to Hermione and Remus, the goblin motioned for them to follow him. Taking them behind the gate barring shut the entrance to the vaults, the goblin pressed his palm against the iron which caused the gate to slither open.

Past the gate stood a small cart. The Lupins gingerly stepped in with the goblin following right behind. After everyone was seated, they were off. Zooming through the vaults, every twist and turn made Hope turn an alarming shade of green. In contrast, Remus would give out a little whoop and raise his hands with every turn, trying, to no avail, to get Hermione to do the same.

“You know,” Hermione shouted. “I’m not going to save you if you start to fall!”

“You’re no fun!” Remus said with a light-hearted grin.

“And you’re an idiot!” Remus responded by sticking his tongue out, which he promptly bit when the cart came to a screeching halt. “I told you.”

Everyone got out of the cart and approached a vault door. Hermione pointedly ignored Remus trying to complain about his bitten tongue to her. Hope and Lyall were far too focused on the vault to care.

The goblin placed a gnarled, green hand on the door and ran a dirty fingernail up the engraving. When the vault opened, Hermione was shocked. The Lupins’ seemed fairly well-off. She’d never heard any complaints of money, but, of course, she was only eleven. The vault was huge, the same size of Harry’s, but only a small pile sat in the middle.

Then, with a shock, she remembered what Remus told her in her previous timeline. When he turned, his parents spent most of their money on finding cures. Up until he was ten and the vault was nearly emptied, but they were known to spend hundreds at even a hint of a cure. Their poor parents, Hermione thought. They would drop a fortune if it meant helping their son.

Lyall asked Hope for a bag and scooped what remained in the vault into the bag. Closing it, Lyall confirmed that they were finished to the goblin. Once more, the four headed into the cart.

————————————————

A bell tinkled above the door to Ollivander’s. The smell of must filled Hermione’s nose and she squinted in an attempt to see through the dim light. Everything looked like it needed a good dusting, and wand boxes overflowed from the shelves. The Lupins were alone except for one small, dark-haired boy and his mother at the front. Hermione couldn’t place her finger on where she’d seen the boy before, but she knew that he was someone from her past.

Then, he turned around and Hermione had to stifle a gasp. She knew that beak-like nose and sallow complexion. Snape! But Harry had described Snape’s childhood as miserable. He wore well-fit clothes and seemed washed, the exact opposite of what Harry told Hermione. She stared at Snape in confusion and his expression became decidedly uncomfortable.

“What are you looking at?” Snape demanded.

“Severus, manners,” Eileen Snape said primly to her son. “Hello, Lyall.”

“Eileen,” Lyall replied. “How goes business?”

Not noticing Hermione’s utter confusion, the conversation carried on.

“Oh, just fine. Did you need some more dittany? I dare say you and your creatures keep my business afloat.”

“Business?” Remus asked curiously.

“Mrs Snape is where I go to keep my potion stock full. Easier than going to Saint Mungo’s every time I get hurt at work,” Lyall explained.

“It’s actually Ms,” Eileen sniffed. “My husband recently passed.”

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry to hear that,” Hope said, entering the conversation.

Suddenly, Severus spoke up. “Don’t be,” he said, turning puce after the words left his mouth.

“All the same,” Lyall replied with a gentle smile. “Your mother is a dab hand at potions, better than Mungo’s I think.” Lyall paused. “I’m sure you two have places to be, so we’ll get out of your hair.”

“Yes, we’re off to Flourish and Blotts. Enjoy your day. Come, Severus.” With that, Eileen led Snape out of the shop.

Hermione mulled over the new information. She knew Dumbledore mentioned some things wouldn’t be the same. Could this be one? No matter the case, something was different. But her mere presence alone couldn’t cause a butterfly effect that would create the death of Tobias Snape. Could it?

Hermione was snapped out of her thoughts by Ollivander himself. The man stood just as old as ever with wisps of stark white hair sticking out every which way. Giving a wizened smile, Ollivander greeted the Lupins, but his unnaturally bright eyes focused on Hermione.

“How interesting,” he murmured, quiet enough that Hermione’s parents made no note of the statement. “Welcome back, Mr Lupin. Ten and a quarter inches, unicorn hair and ash wood if I’m not mistaken. Quite good for defence,” Ollivander mused, seeming lost in his own world.

“That’s the one,” Lyall replied. “Still going strong.”

“And these must be your children,” Ollivander smiled, looking down at Hermione and Remus. “Wonderful…”

“Yes. They’re to start their first year in the autumn. Remus, you first.” Lyall said, prodding Remus forward. “No need to worry, Ollivander’s the best there is.”

“Oh, you flatter an old man,” Ollivander said. “Now, let us see. Which is your wand arm?”

“Well…I write with my left,” Remus offered, holding out the arm, letting the wand selection process begin.

And what a process it was. Hermione sat in a chair, slumped against Hope and thoroughly bored. Thirty minutes had passed and they were no closer to finding a wand than they were twenty minutes ago. Remus had accumulated a sizable pile and broke nearly half the shop. Hermione could tell the boy seemed frustrated, feeling as if he was undeserving of a wand. Lyall worked hard at perking up the boy whenever a wand shot out of Remus’s hand or a pot shattered. Ollivander, however, looked as though Christmas had come early.

The old man’s grin grew wider with every failed wand. He would simply flick his eyes up to examine Remus’s face and then head deeper into the back, all while muttering “interesting.” It was a nightmare.

Finally, when all hope seemed lost, Ollivander came out of the back with a simple, faded box. Tentatively, Remus grasped the wand and gave it a swish. A flash of golden light shot out of the tip and filled the room, bathing Remus’s face in gold. Ollivander praised the boy and his new wand, proudly declaring “Ten and a quarter inch, Cypress with a Unicorn hair core. Pliable and excellent for defence, just like his father’s!”

Remus spun around to face Hermione and Hope. An ear to ear grin split the boy’s face. Hermione shot up from her seat and exclaimed, “Remus! That was absolutely brilliant! Is that normal for it to light up so much?”

“I dunno, but look!” Remus exclaimed, moving over to Hermione. “Isn’t it fantastic? Cypress, he said. D’you know what that means?”

Hermione scrunched her face in concentration, “I think it means life and protection from evil.”

“Quite right, Hermione. She’s been reading all my old books,” Lyall explained to Ollivander.

“Perhaps there’s a future for you in wandmaking,” Ollivander said kindly.

“I’m sorry to say that I’m much more interested in runes,” Hermione said with a grin while Lyall gave a laugh at his precocious child.

“What a shame. Now come up here, wand arm out, and let me inspect you.”

Hermione approached Ollivander and held out her right arm. Lyall, Remus, and Hope sat quietly chatting in the background, but the second Hermione locked eyes with Ollivander all noise seemed to disappear. As she made eye contact with the man, she felt as if he was examining her entire being. It wasn’t the first time she suspected the wandmaker of having seer abilities, what with Harry and his wand, but she’d never felt it so deeply before. After a moment more of eye contact, Ollivander turned around and into the back.

“I know just the wand,” He muttered.

After a moment, Ollivander came back to the front of the shop and carried a simple red box over to Hermione. With all the care in the world, Ollivander opened the box and Hermione gasped. She couldn’t count how many times she had seen this wand. Holly, eleven inches long, and a phoenix feather core. _Harry…but how,_ she thought. Abruptly, she backed away from Ollivander.

“I can’t,” Hermione said, tears welling up in her eyes. “That’s not my wand.”

“I think you’ll find that circumstances have changed,” Ollivander told her. “Though few believe it, wands exist in a plane between animate and non-animate. Wands call out to a wizard and choose him, not the other way around. Very rarely is the bond so strong that one wand calls out louder than the rest. I think you’ll find that this wand is indeed yours.”

“I-,” Tears rolled slowly down Hermione’s cheek as her trembling fingers grasped the wood. A soft glow filled the room and warmth filled her body. Someone gasped in the background, but Hermione paid no attention. The glow began to pulse, push down on Hermione’s heart, and slowly absorb into her body. The dark atmosphere of the shop returned and Hermione was filled with acceptance and love, overshadowing the feeling of immense fear she felt.

“Blimey!” Lyall exclaimed. “Is that normal?”

“Rare, but not unheard of,” Ollivander replied, a speculative look on his face.

“That was aces! I knew you’d get a strong one…Hermione? What’s wrong?” Remus said, brows furrowed with concern.

Hermione could say nothing and shook her head, trying to hold back tears. Remus immediately wrapped his arms around her and turned his head to glare at Ollivander. “What’d you do to her?” He demanded.

Lyall and Hope turned to look at Remus and Hermione. Upon seeing Hermione crying, Hope rushed to the girl’s side and pulled out a hanky to dab her tears. Lyall looked questioningly at Ollivander.

“Sometimes,” Ollivander began, “the experience can be overwhelming. Finding your wand is not an unemotional process, and some react stronger than others.”

“It’s not his fault,” Hermione said, wiping her face. “Just a bit unexpected is all.”

“Well, if you’re sure you’re alright,” Lyall said.

“I am, just emotional.”

Remus and Hope continued to hover around Hermione as Lyall paid Ollivander. While Hermione appreciated their worry, especially Remus’s, she couldn’t help but be furious with herself for reacting so strong to the wand. _History’s different,_ she reminded herself. _That’s what Dumbledore said, nothing would be the same._

————————————————

In an attempt to lift Hermione’s spirits, Lyall took the family over to Flourish and Blotts. As soon as Hermione stepped foot inside the old bookshop, she felt more at ease and gave a grateful grin to Lyall. She’d forgotten what it was like to be a child in the bookshop, with the bookcases rising impossibly high and making her feel impossibly small. It was similar to a warm blanket enveloping her.

Now, to purchase their textbooks. Unfortunately, Lyall and Hope were no help to them. At the mere mention of cleaning spells, Hope dragged Lyall right over to the household charms section and chastised him about never telling her anything. Hermione relaxed her face into a content grin as she watched her parents and pulled out the booklist. Forcing Remus away from the books on Bowtruckles, Hermione put him to work. Grumbling good-naturedly, Remus took the list and headed over to the back of the shop while Hermione began searching in the front. Deeply focused on the task at hand, Hermione never noticed the other child staring at her in shock.

Once Hermione finished finding two of every book needed from the front, she headed to the back to locate Remus, but the boy was nowhere to be found. Hermione began to search each aisle while calling out a gentle, “Remus, are you there?”

Then, when she least expected it, Remus jumped out causing Hermione to let out an ungodly shriek before smacking the giggling boy in the arm. “You absolute prat, Remus Lupin!”

“Oh, it was funny. Admit it,” Remus said.

“Not in the slightest,” Hermione sniffed. “Did you even find all the books we need? Or were you too busy trying to terrify me?”

“Course I got them. I also found this for you,” Remus said while pulling a small, emerald book from his shopping basket, which contained an extension charm to make the heavy books easier to manage.

“What is it?”

“A journal, of course.”

“What do I need a journal for?”

Remus flushed, “well, after Ollivander’s…I just supposed that you have a lot of feelings you might, er, want to get out.”

Hermione looked surprised at the boy. Remus cleared his throat to continue, “Besides, you can’t exactly take it back. I’ve only just bought it and with all my pocket change. I just, I dunno, thought you’d enjoy it.”

“Remus,” Hermione began, tears welling up in her eyes once more, “that is the kindest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

“Are you crying again? Pease don’t cry, I only meant to make you feel better.”

“You daft sod. I am happy,” Hermione said, giving a snotty sniff. “Come here you!”

With that, Hermione flung her arms around Remus. What would she do without this stupid, caring boy? Be completely lost for one.

After letting out their feelings, and making Remus wholly uncomfortable with such outward displays of affection, but wholly comfortable and overjoyed on the inside, the pair set off to find Hope and Lyall. Neither noticed the shocked and increasingly confused face of the child staring at the two, having followed Hermione from the front to the back of the shop.

————————————————

That night, after the record scratched from a bedroom and Lyall joined his wife, and after Remus picked up Art and holed himself in his room, Hermione went on the move. As was usual, Hermione waited an appropriate amount of time before tiptoeing into Hope and Lyall’s room. Stepping over odds and ends, she approached Lyall’s private bookcase. Using the man’s gentle snores to gauge her movements, Hermione carefully picked up a few books on undetectable charms and various protection spells and headed out.

Hermione didn’t relax her body until she was safely within the confines of her own room. With a radio gently crooning out Celestina Warbeck, she set out to work. Placing the beautiful journal Remus had bought onto the floor, Hermione grabbed Harry’s—her—wand and opened a book to its chapter on secret communication. Twisting her face in concentration, Hermione lifted her wand. The most frustrating thing about this whole experience was that magic grew with age and Hermione, having reduced both her physical and mental maturity to that of a 12-year-old, found that even the old spells she was a dab hand at were troublesome.

“ _Absconditus scriptura,”_ Hermione said, her voice quiet yet clear. She waved her wand anti-clockwise around the book while chanting the spell. After seven rotations, Hermione stopped. Grabbing a quill, she wrote a quick “My name is Hermione Lupin.”

The ink bled into the page for a second before slowly disappearing. Hermione picked up the wand again. _“Monstro mihi.”_ The words reappeared. Hermione gave a satisfied grin and began to write.

At the top of the page, she wrote Incongruities. Making a careful list, she wrote down Severus Snape and her acquisition of Harry’s wand. Voices continued to croon and soothe from the radio as she worked. Checking her watch every so often, Hermione worked until daybreak. Once she was satisfied with her work, she moved her wand anti-clockwise, chanting _“absconditus scriptura.”_

Hermione gathered the books she had used and disillusioned herself. Carefully re-entering Hope and Lyall’s room, she placed all of the books back in their respective places and carefully removed herself once more from the room. Then, she grabbed the small, emerald journal and stuffed it in her wardrobe. Turning her head to the wall, she looked at the calendar hammered to the wall. Thirteen more days. 


	4. The Sorting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for such a delay! March was a rough month for me. I lost a really close family member and had midterms, so I lost a lot of motivation. I hope this long chapter makes up for it, and thank you so much for all of the kudos, bookmarks, and comments! Also, I'm not a poet so don't judge my Sorting Hat song too harshly.

Hermione forgot summer through the eyes of a child. It was a simple and beautiful time. She whiled away the hours practicing magic and exploring forests with Remus, and the only dark spot on her summer was the countdown. Each day moved quicker than the last, and every night before bed, Hermione would head over to a little calendar on the wall and put a red check over the date, ignoring the growing feeling of dread. 

This particular night was much like the other dog days of summer, but now the August spread of Hermione’s calendar was covered in neat, red checks and a sturdy trunk perched on her bed. The lovely smell of aged leather filled the small bedroom and the frayed handle and stitching made Hermione treasure the trunk all the more. Lyall and Hope were experts at penny pinching and a simple doubling charm with a strong _reparo_ on Lyall’s old trunk fixed the lack of luggage for Hermione and Remus.

Though Hermione missed her muggle parents, she couldn’t deny how convenient it was having a wizard for an adoptive father. Her first time around she only had a simple suitcase for her things and she remembered holding back furious tears when Lavender Brown teased her. Thankfully, Professor McGonagall comforted her and made a quick transfiguration job on the suitcase.

 Shaking her head of the memories, Hermione went back to work and carefully folded a jumper that Hope had slaved over during last Christmas. After the jumper was folded, Hermione grabbed the box and journal that hid under her bed and packed them both into the trunk.

The journal was now full to the brim with notes. She had one section devoted to remembering the wolfsbane potion—still incomplete. Another was devoted to any future interactions with Dumbledore and what she considered need to know. However, the journal wasn’t just planning; pictures overflowed from the pages. Over the summer, Hermione found an old box containing a beat-up polaroid camera. After begging Lyall and Hope for film, Hermione took to it like a fish to water. Lyall joked that there was never a moment’s rest now that Hermione had a camera in hand.

To be fair, he did feed her habit with film and teaching her how to make the pictures move. Despite feeling a bit like Colin Creevey at times, Hermione felt this was important. Harry had so few pictures of his parents and their friends that Hermione merely felt she was doing her part. No matter what happened, Harry would always have images of his parents—whether it was to reminisce with them or learn more about them. Hopefully, it was the former.

 “Hermione, I hope you’re not staying up too late!” Lyall called from the sitting room.

  “Almost finished,” she called back, putting the final touches on her packing.

 “Did you remember enough socks?”

 “And don’t forget your robes!” Hope chimed in. Her parents were worrying themselves silly at the thought of Remus and Hermione leaving.

 “Have you interrogated Remus yet?” Hermione asked.

“Don’t worry. He’s next on our list,” Lyall called, laughing when they heard a loud thump from Remus’s room. 

After Hermione finished packing, she fell into a fitful sleep, full of worry. She’d get a dreadful feeling in the pit of her stomach before shooting up in bed, forgetting what she dreamed of, and repeating the cycle.

Her latest dream was memories more than anything. Harry stood solemnly in front of her; Sirius had just died. Grief was etched into every line of Harry’s face and his back bowed against the pressure of being the chosen one and being forced to lose so much.

Harry opened his mouth, about to speak. A noise tore through his throat, much like the shriek of a banshee or that infernal egg from fourth year. Hermione tried to reach out, but Harry fell just before she could catch him. His eyes were wide open; mouth open in a now silent scream. Then he went still, eyes glazed over.

Hermione trembled and stood over him, but the green of Harry’s eyes changed to hazel. James Potter lay there dead. Then, James Potter morphed into Severus Snape. Snape into Lily Evans. Then Fred. Then Remus. Then Sirius. All the faces she could save or lose again appeared before her eyes in a sick slideshow that grew with increasing ferocity. 

Agony built in her heart. She begged for the images to stop. She tried to close her eyes and turn away, but the second she was able to turn away it was as if the room spun so she was faced with the dead once more. A force pushed down on her, trapping her. 

“Hermione…” a phantom voice drifted in and out. “Hermione…”

The force began to shake her. “Hermione!” 

The trap came undone. With a cry, Hermione’s eyes flew open and she saw Remus looking small and afraid, his hands resting on her shoulders. Without saying a word, Hermione threw her arms around the boy and thanked whatever was out there that she still had him and still had a chance. 

“You’re alright,” Remus said, squeezing Hermione tight. “It’s just a dream and a bloody awful one at that.”

Remus laughed when Hermione lightly slapped his side and mumbled “no cursing.”

“Oh, mum can’t hear a thing. She’s by the fireplace with dad figuring out the best way to fit all our stuff through.” 

“How’s that going?” Hermione asked while giving a huge sniff and pulling away from Remus. The boy appeared peaky with dark circles under his eyes due to the impending full moon.

“Well, she won’t let dad shrink them. Can’t believe you slept through that, what with the shrieking. She thought he was making them disappear.” 

“Now?”           

“Dad’s pulling out his old books and mum’s making sandwiches.          

Hermione gave a sigh. “I suppose we should go help them out,” she said as she got out of bed, kicking Remus out of her room so she could dress.           

Upon entering the sitting room, Hermione stifled a laugh. If she didn’t know this was her house she would have thought something terrible occurred. Ash covered every surface in the room. Their squishy, rust coloured sofa was now painted black. The carpet that was typically a soft cream had now turned to grey.           

The most humorous image, however, was Lyall. He resembled a chimney sweep at the end of a shift. His hair stood up on end and the whites of his eyes glowed against the ash covering his face. His clothes weren’t much better off.         

Occasionally, Lyall would dust off a shoulder, as if the ash were simply a spot of bother. Then, he would screw his face out in concentration and stick out his tongue, something Remus did as well. Once he started darkly muttering under his breath, Hermione thought it best to help Lyall while Remus helped Hope.          

“Everything alright, dad?” Hermione asked, attempting to tread as lightly as possible over the ash-covered floor.           

“Yes, yes,” Lyall replied absentmindedly, using his wand to flip through the pages of a text.           

“What spells have you used?”           

“Since an undetectable extension charm is regulated by the ministry, I can’t exactly use that so I’m working on a work around, as it were.”           

“And mum won’t let you shrink them?”           

Lyall blanched at the memory of his attempt. “Best if we not.”           

“What if mum didn’t have to know?” Hermione said quietly, sticking her head into the empty fireplace and observing the space.           

“And how would you suggest that?”         

“Well, we could say that you got it to work long enough for the trunks to fit and sent them through. Then you can quick travel to King’s Cross and unshrink them and I’ll tell mum that you’re waiting on the other side.”         

Lyall beamed at his daughter and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Guess you and Remus got all the brains in the family.”           

Standing up, Lyall quickly scourgified the room before starting a fire and shrinking the trunks. Tucking them carefully into his breast pocket, Lyall threw floo powder onto the fire and stepped in.          

“Do tell your mother and Remus to finish up,” Lyall said before bellowing _“King’s Cross Station!”_           

There was no need for Hermione to fetch the two. Lyall wasn’t exactly quiet and as soon as he left, Hope entered the room with Remus following from behind and holding a sack of sandwiches.           

“Thank heavens he’s cleaned up. Has your father sorted out the fireplace as well?” Hope asked Hermione who nodded before giving the phony explanation.           

“Well, I suppose we’d better finish up here. Go wash your hands, Remus. Hermione, love, do you need me to brush your hair out for you?”           

Reluctantly acquiescing to Hope’s thinly veiled request, Hermione sat down on a once again rust-coloured sofa and allowed Hope to grab a brush from her room and begin the attack on Hermione’s hair. Every yank would push her head back and cause her to wince and Hope to tut. Remus, apparently, decided to betray Hermione and stood sniggering with the fluffy Art curled up in his arms.           

After a few more moments of torture, Hope seemed satisfied and put the brush down, leaving Hermione to massage her sore scalp while Hope grabbed the floo powder. First, she shuffled Remus and Art into the fireplace, a large yowl sounded from the fireplace as the boy left.           

“Ready, dear?” Hope asked as she turned to look at Hermione.           

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”          

“Don’t you worry. You’re bright as a button and you’ll make friends in no time.”           

Concealing her real fears, Hermione just smiled up at her mum before stepping into the emerald flames.           

Hope gingerly entered as well and shouted “King’s Cross Station!”           

After a few whizzing moments passed by, Hermione and Hope stumbled out of the fireplace and into a luggage room. Well, what appeared to be a luggage room. Curious, Hermione asked Lyall what this place was.           

“Can’t have magical folk getting lost in muggle London, can we?” Lyall replied with a smile.

“Think of it as the wizard’s entrance to King’s Cross. Easier than driving and easier than apparating with all of the luggage and a family in tow.        

Hermione mulled over his answer as a way to distract from what laid ahead. Why was this feature no longer available in the future? It would have been much easier than driving from the Burrow to London. Perhaps the first wizarding war had put a stop to it.           

Hermione was still lost in her thoughts when the family left the small luggage room. Remus was practically vibrating with excitement and all his movement caused Art to look at the boy with annoyance.           

Lyall was not much better. Hermione could definitely tell where Remus got it from. Her dad was aglow with the thought of seeing the Hogwarts Express. Don’t be mistaken, Hermione was happy too, but every spark of excitement was immediately replaced with nerves. She’d see so many people today. Hermione would look at everyone and know their possible future. She’d know the future Death Eaters and betrayers, but they were only children right now. How could she judge someone for a future they might not have?           

Trying to not let herself get so worked up, Hermione began to lightly chat with Remus about nothing in particular. Her family walked through the station, ignoring the stares of muggles. Those stares were not directed towards their dress or trunks, but towards Remus and Art. A scarred boy and bat-like cat were apparently quite the spectacle. As Hermione talked to Remus, she would occasionally stare down someone that focused a little too long on Remus’s face.           

Besides, Hermione thought. I’m not the one dressed like _that!_ She knew it was the style, but some of the outfits muggles wore were ridiculous and right out of the pages of her mum’s old scrapbooks. She remembered looking over each image and laughing at her mother’s feathered hair, clunky boots, and hot pants. Joke was on Hermione now. She gave a chuckle and Remus was about to ask why when Lyall came to a halt.           

“Right, here we are,” Lyall said while looking up at the plastic number nine and plastic number ten.           

“This may seem uncomfortable, but I want you two to run directly into that brick wall,” Lyall said nonchalant as if he were discussing the weather.           

“Into a brick wall?” Remus exclaimed. “You never said anything about that!”           

“Yes, well, now you know,” Lyall said dryly before ruffling Remus’s hair affectionately. “Off you go.”           

Hermione saw that Remus clearly had some reservations, so she volunteered to go first. She approached the wall and looked pointedly at Remus as she pressed herself through the barrier. After a brief moment of darkness, Hermione emerged.           

The scarlet steam engine stood proudly next to the platform. Waves of emotion crashed into Hermione, and she held back joyful tears at the sight of the bustling platform. Hundreds of people moved about the platform and kids let out gleeful laughs as they ran around. Hermione looked behind her and saw Remus push through the barrier.           

The look on his face was pure wonderment. He spun around to examine the barrier he went through, but saw only a wrought-iron archway.           

“Can you believe this!” Remus exclaimed, setting down Art who began to purr and crisscross around Remus’s legs.           

“Oh, Remus, it’s lovely,” Hermione said with tears in her eyes. She attempted to scan the platform for a familiar face, but there was too much to take in.          

Lyall and Hope emerged a moment later. Lyall bore an easy grin while Hope looked in shock as she marvelled at her surroundings. Loosening the two identical trunks from the cart, Lyall casted a simple _locomotor_ and drifted the trunks towards a train door that was close to an empty compartment. Hope, Remus, and Hermione followed closely behind, weaving through families sending off their children and friends reuniting.           

Dropping the charm from the trunks, Lyall heaved the luggage through the train door. This task was made harder by the schoolchildren jumping in and out of the train. After a few more moments, though, the trunks were neatly tucked away in a corner of a compartment.           

He looked towards Remus and Hermione, and the two noticed wetness begin to pool at the bottom of Lyall’s eyes. The man had the kindest heart in the world, but one would not put soft and emotional at the front of a list on Lyall’s traits.           

“I’m so very proud of you two,” he began, stooping so he was eye level with his children. “And remember Remus, we’ll be there this Sunday for you. Let us know if you need anything, son.”           

With that, Lyall hugged Remus tight, not fully ready to part ways. Hermione heard a sniff from behind her and saw Hope take out a hanky and dab her eyes.           

“Oh,” she sighed. “I promised myself I wouldn’t cry.” With that, Hope joined Lyall in hugging Remus and tugged Hermione in to join them.           

The steam engine’s whistle blared a final warning and Lyall and Hope stepped away from the two children.           

“Owl us tomorrow!” Lyall exclaimed. “I know you two will make Gryffindor proud!”           

“We love you both dearly!” Hope chimed in as the two stepped out of the train. “Tell us everything!”           

With a last look at their children, Lyall and Hope disappeared onto the platform.           

Hermione and Remus pressed their faces against the glass and scanned the platform. Lyall and Hope stood right outside the window and were waving furiously as the train screeched out of the station.           

Only after their parents vanished from view did Remus and Hermione slump against a seat. Houses and other scenery flashed past the window as the train gained momentum. Remus smiled at Hermione, his tired face shining with excitement.           

Hermione began a silent countdown to when Remus decided to don his robes—It didn’t take long. After a few more minutes of watching London leave them behind, Remus jumped up from his seat and pulled open his trunk. Black school robes, not yet transformed by the sorting, were pulled out and Remus began a hasty change into them.           

The moment Remus finished changing, Art jumped onto his lap and began kneading into the robes. A short while later, Art was curled up purring, Remus was reading a textbook, and Hermione sat writing in her journal. With a loud bang, the compartment door swung open.          

“Oh, I can’t believe them! What utter prats!” An angry voice exclaimed. “Whatever house I get into…I hope it isn’t with them!”           

Hermione slowly turned her head towards the door, ice filling her veins. There stood Lily Evans. Harry’s green eyes peered around the compartment—not Harry’s…Lily’s. Her dark red hair fluffed out about her face and freckles stood out against her pale skin. Behind her, an annoyed Severus Snape stood.           

“Excuse me,” Lily asked, anger leaving her face. “Mind if we sit here? Our last compartment was— “           

“Filled with prats?” Hermione filled in. She had a feeling she knew which two prats Lily was referring to.           

“Yes,” Lily scowled.           

Hermione shrugged. “Well, I don’t mind if Remus doesn’t.” She looked at the boy in askance.           

“It’s not as though there isn’t room,” Remus said while motioning for Lily and Severus to sit down. “Say, aren’t you that boy from Ollivander’s? My dad buys potions from your mum.”           

“Looks like you could use a good pepper-up. Are you ill?”           

Hermione began to shoot daggers at Severus, something which Lily quickly took notice of.           

“That’s not really our business, is it Sev?” Lily said, making a pointed expression.           

“No, it’s okay,” Remus said, desperate to make friends. “I’m just a little under the weather. Nothing a little rest shouldn’t fix. Anyways, my name’s Remus. You’re Severus, right?”           

Severus nodded and extended his hand for Remus to shake.           

“And I’m Lily,” the girl piped up, smiling at Remus and Hermione.           

“My name’s Hermione.”           

“Are you two brother and sister?” Lily asked curiously.           

“A bit complicated, but yeah. I’m technically Remus’s cousin, but I was adopted,” Hermione explained. She thought it might be best to explain this before there are questions. Besides, Lily was a muggleborn and Hermione knew how terrifying the first week was.           

“I remember my mum telling me about that,” Severus mused, adding a quick “sorry about your loss” as an afterthought.           

“Yes, well, what’s done is done,” Hermione explained before changing topics. “It’s terribly exciting, isn’t it?”           

“I can’t believe it!” Lily exclaimed, “It was only this year I found out and it’s all happened so terribly fast!”           

“I know how you feel. I only found out last year after I was adopted,” Hermione told her.           

“So you’re a muggleborn?” Lily asked, relief appearing on her face.           

“Through and through! And my adoptive mum’s a muggle and dad’s a wizard, so Remus here is half-blood.”           

“It must be nice, coming from a magical background. I’m terrified everyone will already be able to do advanced spells. I’ve read through all my textbooks just in case.”           

When Lily said this, Remus gave a bashful smile. “Hermione and I have too.”           

“I didn’t know I was sitting in a compartment full of Ravenclaws,” Severus said, attempting a joke. Hermione’s brows furrowed for a moment with this realization. Though this Severus was not her professor, she couldn’t help but view the two as the exact same person.           

“Well, I’m hoping for Ravenclaw or Gryffindor,” Hermione said.           

“Why would anyone want to be in Gryffindor?” Snape asked, wrinkling his nose.           

“They’re all about justice, bravery, and loyalty!” Remus exclaimed as his body leaned closer to the others. “My dad was in Gryffindor, and I hope I am too. Better than Slytherin at least.”           

With that, Hermione saw Severus’s face fall slightly and she knew that she had to recover from Remus’s unintended blunder.           

“Slytherin aren’t all bad. Cunning and ambition. Those are admirable traits. I think the house just has a bad reputation from a few rotten people.”           

Severus gave a small but grateful smile towards Hermione.           

“And I guess Gryffindor isn’t so bad either,” Snape admitted with a pained expression.           

“And Lily? What house d’you want to be in?” Remus asked, pulling out a sandwich to munch on.           

“They all sound lovely,” Lily said. “But I think as long as I’m at Hogwarts I won’t care.”          

“That was my view too,” Hermione said with a smile. She checked her watch. “Well, we’ve still got seven hours to figure it out!”           

The four spent the rest of the trip chatting and exchanging sweets. Even Severus loosened up and began to crack jokes and smile. It was an entirely surreal experience for Hermione and she couldn’t stop thinking about Harry and Ron. Then, she would look at a smiling Severus and a very much alive Lily. Everything had changed.           

The hours ticked down until they were nearly at the station. Night had fallen and the train was illuminated with dim bulbs of light. The four were already dressed in their robes and crouched over a game of gobstones that Severus pulled out. 

“My mum was Gobstones Captain at Hogwarts,” he said with a shrug before explaining the rules to Lily. 

Before long, a magically amplified voice echoed through the dim corridor of the train. The voice belonged to an elderly gentleman who croaked _“We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes’ time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately.”_ As soon as the voice dissipated, a flurry of movement was heard. Students clambered out of their compartments, robes draped over their arms as they went to find the toilets. 

Seeing as Hermione, Remus, Lily and Severus were already dressed, they merely began to clean up the gobstones. Lily, being inexperienced with the game, was drenched in the foul-smelling liquid excreted by the gobstones. The others had small patches of still drying gunk on them. 

Giggling, Hermione went over to her trunk and pulled out her camera. Casting a simple locomotor charm, she watched the battered camera hover in front of the window and she pulled the three others by her side. Severus grumbled, a particularly lurid and foul-smelling streak of gunk dripped down his nose. Hermione ignored his complaints and pointed her wand at the camera.

 _“Acciperus picturae!”_ Hermione exclaimed before quickly putting her wand by her side and beaming. A faint click was heard and she rushed over to the camera, grabbing it from the air. As she grabbed the camera, the train began to squeal. The four staggered slightly as the momentum decreased. Suddenly, Lily looked nervous. 

“I suppose this is it, then,” Lily said, wrinkling her nose up just as Harry did. 

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m rather excited,” Hermione said with a smile. “Besides, it’s not as though you haven’t got friends. You’re not even off the train and you’ve three.” 

Lily flushed, a pleased smile splitting her face in half. “D’you really mean that?” 

“Of course she does!” Remus interjected, turning to face the others while struggling to place Art in his carrier. 

“It goes for Severus too, if you’d like,” Hermione added, turning to face the sallow-faced boy whose cheeks turned a startling shade of scarlet. 

“I suppose you aren’t the worst people to be friends with,” Severus said, shifting his voice to sound pompous. 

“Well, I’m glad to hear it,” Hermione said with a smile, ignoring how bizarre everything had become. 

“Oh! And before I forget, _scourgify!”_ Hermione exclaimed, cleaning the gobstones gunk off the others and herself. 

The train slowed to a crawl before reaching a halt. The magically-lit streetlamps of Hogsmeade greeted the Hogwarts Express and students began to impatiently queue next to the train doors. After a moment longer, loud clangs, one after another, sounded throughout the train as the doors swung open. 

The moment the doors opened, a booming voice began to shout “Firs’ years! Firs’ years over here!” 

Hermione’s heart practically leapt out of her chest. She began to ardently push her way out of the train and out on to a tiny, dark platform. Ignoring the shiver of cold that went up her spine, she scanned the platform frantically. Remus, Lily, and Severus followed behind with three identical bemused expressions. 

Hermione looked up over the crowd and saw a lamp bobbing over the heads of the students. Hagrid towered over the children, his beard dark and untamed, glinting lamplight off the hair. He was considerably younger, an obvious detail considering the last Hermione saw him he was forty years older. 

Ignoring the shocked gasps of other first years, Hermione skipped up to the half-giant, who continued to boom “firs’ years!” After the trickle of children slowed to a halt and the few remaining stragglers began to meander over to the carriages, Hagrid opened his mouth to speak again. 

“Any more firs’ years? Good. C’mon, follow me and mind yer step, now!”

Hermione led the charge, trying her hardest to not slip on the rain soaked platform. Her face was furrowed in concentration as her little feet moved over wet rock. The walk was silent. Most of the first years shivered with nerves and cold, not daring to utter a sound. At one point, Lily let out a squeak and grabbed onto Hermione’s robe to save herself from slipping. A few titters travelled through the group. 

Hermione faintly remembered her own first time to Hogwarts and anticipation built with every step. Any moment now… 

“Yeh’ll get yer firs’ sight o’ Hogwarts in a mo’,” Hagrid called over his shoulder, voice disappearing into the darkness. 

Hermione’s eyes teared up with unrestrained joy as she walked around the bend. Hogwarts stood proudly against the black sky. Windows sparkled with light and life, causing gold to glitter off the black lake. Behind her, Hermione heard loud gasps and quiet _ooohs._  

“No more’n four to a boat! Careful yeh don’t slip!” Hagrid called, pointing a grubby finger at the fleet of rowboats sitting eerily still by the shore. Hermione tugged on Remus’s robes to urge him towards a boat. He shocked at her touch, mouth snapping closed as he turned to face Hermione, who merely giggled at his bug-eyed expression. 

Hermione and Remus stepped into a boat, followed closely behind by Lily and Severus. Most first years had their eyes glued to the castle, but some cast wary gazes around their new schoolmates.

“All in?” shouted Hagrid, who sat cramped in his own boat, knees pulled up to his neck. “Right then—FORWARD!” 

Lily gasped next to Hermione as the little rowboats pressed off the shore. Gentler than a summer breeze, the boats glided across the expansive black lake. A hush fell over the group, everyone fixed their eyes upon the castle, it’s turrets and towers standing impressively along the stone. The castle grew impossibly larger as the rowboats made their ways closer and closer to the cliff on which Hogwarts stood. 

“Heads down!” Hagrid boomed as the boats began to reach the cliff. In a flurry of movement, they all bent their heads and the boats drifted lazily through a curtain of ivy that hid an opening. The ivy cleared up to reveal a dark tunnel, which seemed to travel into a cavern that lay hidden under the castle. Slowly, the rowboats floated into an underground harbour, rocks and pebbles crunched under the wood.

All at once, the children stumbled out of the boats and flocked around Hagrid. The crowd of children came up to Hagrid’s hips at the highest. He scanned through the darkness and made a mental headcount. 

“Everyone here? Excellent!” Hagrid said as he turned to face the castle door. He raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door, the children trembled with each knock. 

At once, the door swung open. Yet another memory materialised in front of Hermione. Professor McGonagall emerged from behind the door. She wore emerald-green robes and her hair was pulled back into its usual stern bun. Hagrid introduced the witch to the first years, but Hermione was too focused on McGonagall to pay attention. 

A body pushed into her back and threw Hermione out of her reminiscing. She began to move forward, the entrance dwarfing the small group. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches that bounced light off the walls, the ceiling extended unseen into the darkness, and a marble staircase faced them. 

The sight was awe-inspiring and frightening all at once. Remus slipped his hand into Hermione’s and clung for dear life. Professor McGonagall continued to move, leading them across the entrance hall and up to an exquisitely carved oak double-door. Remus’s hand tightened on Hermione’s when the cacophony of hundreds of voices was heard behind the door. Instead of taking the children through that door, Professor McGonagall led the first years into a small, empty chamber on the left-hand side. Stepping on each other’s toes, they crowded in, peering about nervously. One particular boy, unrecognizable in the dim light, was whipping his head about and staring frantically at his peers. 

“Welcome to Hogwarts,” said Professor McGonagall. “Before you take your seats at the start-of-term banquet, you will be sorted into your Houses…” 

Hermione tuned out the introduction and began searching for familiar faces amongst the crowd. One little girl next to her had a crop of dark hair and a friendly, round face. Hermione started when she recognised the face from one of Neville’s old pictures. She knew Alice Longbottom was at Hogwarts around the same time, but she had no idea she was the same year. 

Hermione tried to look around more, but the small room was too cramped and she could scarcely twist herself an inch left or right. She turned her focus back to Professor McGonagall. 

“…all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you wait,” Professor McGonagall finished. Already, her intimidating presence was made known to the first years and many began to frantically pat their hair down and smooth their robes. Even Hermione began to nervously wring her frizzy hair in her hands. 

“I shall return when we are ready for you,” Professor McGonagall said. “Please wait quietly and remember a sense of decorum.”

As soon as she left, a boy to Hermione’s left warbled out a nervous question. “How exactly are we sorted then?” 

Hermione turned to face the boy and her face froze. A meek Peter Pettigrew stood in front of her, his robes stretched over a slight paunch. _Not the same, not the same, not the same,_ she frantically remembered, trying to ignore the hatred that seethed through her. 

“Reckon it’s a test. Bet it’ll hurt a lot,” another boy said with a smirk. 

“Oh, shut it Davey, you knob!” The boy Davey’s friend called out. 

“Surely they wouldn’t do anything painful,” Lily whispered to Severus who began to reassure her. 

“I heard they make you fight a troll,” another boy called out. 

“What rubbish,” Hermione muttered, the classic know-it-all voice making itself known. “You don’t really think that they would make us fight a class four creature, do you? Whatever anyone’s told you, it’s a lie. All we do is put on a hat.” 

“Are you really sure?” A nervous girl asked. “My sister told me that we’ll face a boggart.” 

Just as Hermione scoffed and began a retort, Professor McGonagall returned. 

“Queue in front of me, the sorting is about to begin,” Professor McGonagall told the first years, “and follow me.” 

Hermione squeezed Remus’s hand in an attempt to comfort the boy. Remus peered at her through his shaggy fringe and gave a grateful smile before dropping her hand. Ignoring her legs turning to lead, Hermione forced her feet to listen to her and not run away from her new future. 

She walked close behind Professor McGonagall, with Remus walking behind her and a blonde girl moving in front of her. The doors into the Great Hall cracked open, revealing a splendid sight. 

Thousands of candles adorned the room. Some floated, while others dripped wax down the wall sconces. Four long tables were already crowded with students, sparse patches of empty tablespace were reserved for their newest housemates. Some students were whispering to each other, giggling over the events of the summer. Some peered at the empty gold plates and goblets with longing. Most, however, turned their eyes towards the first years making their way to the front.

Professor McGonagall led the first years up to the steps leading to the staff table. She stopped and the queue staggered to a halt. Hermione looked up towards the bewitched sky and began to take deep breaths. While she was doing so, Professor McGonagall silently placed a rickety stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool was the sorting hat, just as ragged as it was during Hermione’s original timeline. 

The Great Hall grew silent and even Dumbledore leaned in to intently examine the hat. After a moment of heavy silence, the hat cracked open its brim. The hat’s singing filled the room.

_A sight for sore eyes_

_I am indeed_

_Though you may jeer_

_You are not the seer_

_I see all and know all_

_For better or for worse_

_Your path is laid bare_

_So where best will you fare?_

_Gryffindor, the brave and just_

_Unafraid of the truth_

_And home to the robust_

_Then comes Hufflepuff_

_Unafraid of toil_

_Home to the loyal_

_Or perhaps Ravenclaw_

_Where wit beyond measure_

_Is man’s greatest treasure_

_Or is Slytherin the place for you?_

_Where true colours fly_

_And home to the cunning few_

_The future is now_

_And it’s yours to be sowed_

_But why listen to me_

_For I'm but an old tattered hat_

 

After a second of silence, the hall burst into applause. A few overly enthusiastic claps ricocheted around the hall while the hat bowed to the four tables. 

Professor McGonagall stepped forward once more, a long roll of parchment floated beside her and extended to the ground. 

“When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted,” she said. “Avery, Atticus!” 

A pale, sneering boy swaggered up to the hat. Barely a hair was mussed when the hat made its decision. 

“SLYTHERIN!” it shouted. 

With a proud smile, Avery walked over to the applauding table.           

Professor McGonagall opened her mouth again: “Black, Sirius!”           

Hermione froze. Time began to move in slow motion as one of the first years made his way to the stool. Hermione could barely move; a weight began to press itself on her chest. When she managed to look up, it took all of her willpower to not burst into tears.           

A very much alive Sirius Black sat down on the stool with a serious expression. His young, aristocratic features screwed up in concentration and he began to furiously whisper under his breath. The Slytherin table began to murmur. After a few more tense seconds, the hat decided.           

“GRYFFINDOR!” The hat cried. With an expression of relief, Sirius removed the hat and placed it back on the stool. Hermione looked at him as he walked down the steps. Loud gossip extended from the Slytherin table. Sirius kept his eyes straight ahead as he walked past Hermione, his limbs were stiff as a board.           

The sorting continued. Hermione stood processing Sirius’s sorting while a few more people went. Then, she heard Professor McGonagall call out “Evans, Lily!”  

Hermione whispered a quick good luck to the girl as she trembled past. Lily gingerly sat on the rickety stool and barely a second after it had touched her dark red hair, the hat cried, “GRYFFINDOR!”           

Hermione heard Severus give a small groan of disappointment. Lily took off the hat, handed it back to Professor McGonagall, and made her way over to the cheering Gryffindors. Behind the joy, Hermione could make out a hint of sadness as Lily regarded Severus.           

The roll call continued. After Loretta Lauren was sorted into Ravenclaw, Professor McGonagall read the scroll again. “Lupin, Hermione!” 

Remus quickly whispered a good luck and squeezed her hand. Approaching the stool with hesitance, Hermione gently sat down and McGonagall placed the tattered hat on Hermione’s head. She closed her eyes. 

“So, another one of you,” the hat began in an ominous voice. “Well, well, well…where to put you…” 

“Please, just place me in Gryffindor,” Hermione begged in her mind. “I need to be in Gryffindor.” 

“Is that so? I’ve seen your past; I see your future. Allies come from all sides, and certain houses will put you further down your destined path.” 

“I don’t care,” Hermione insisted. “I know where I need to go. Please, sort me into Gryffindor.” 

“How annoyingly insistent. Your travelling companion was just the same. Well, I suppose it had better be…” 

Hermione gripped the edge of the stool, knuckles turning white. 

“GRYFFINDOR!”

She sagged in relief. Pulling off the hat, Hermione handed it to Professor McGonagall and walked down the stairs towards the applauding Gryffindor table. She beamed at Remus as she passed by. 

Once she approached the table, she sat very carefully next to the spot Sirius deliberately cleared off for her. Willing herself to ignore him, Hermione turned towards the sorting ceremony just in time to see Remus approach the stool. 

 He walked slowly and carefully, as if he wanted to preserve the memory forever. McGonagall placed the hat on top of Remus’s head and his tired eyes closed. Though he wasn’t whispering anything like Sirius had, extreme concentration filled Remus’s face. The hat almost seemed to be debating with the boy. 

After a moment longer, the hat’s brim ripped open and it shouted: “GRYFFINDOR!” 

Remus happily handed the hat to Professor McGonagall and rushed towards the cheering Gryffindor table where Hermione was clapping the hardest. Slipping next to Hermione on the bench, he sagged in relief. 

“The hat wanted to put me in Ravenclaw!” Remus hissed to Hermione. “I thought for sure you’d end up there, but here we are!”

“You can’t image how relieved I am that you’re here,” Hermione whispered back. “Now pay attention to the sorting!” 

“Yes, mum,” Remus teased, rolling his eyes. Happiness shone on his face. 

Hermione tuned out the rest of the sorting. She clapped when the other new Gryffindors were sorted. Sirius led a thunderous applause when James was sorted and noticeably kept his hands down when Peter took off the sorting hat. 

After Emmaline Vance’s sorting into Ravenclaw, McGonagall cleared up the stool and hat. Then, Dumbledore stood up. 

Stretching his arms out wide, Dumbledore beamed at the students. 

“Welcome!” he said. “Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! There are a few announcements to be made, but those can wait. For now, let the feast begin!” 

Dumbledore clapped his hands together before sitting down. Everybody clapped and cheered as food appeared on the golden plates. Slowly, Hermione turned towards the feast, ignoring the boy beside her. She was not alone, and she didn’t know if she was ready to face Sirius. Too bad he wouldn’t let her stay silent.

“Er-excuse me…” Sirius’s voice, untouched by age, sounded. Hermione froze before slowly turning to face him.

 


	5. The Fireside

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Sirius briefly mentions child abuse near the end of the chapter.
> 
> Thank you so much for all of your kudos and comments! I hope you like this chapter :)

“Er-excuse me…” Sirius’s voice, untouched by age, sounded. Hermione froze before slowly turning to face him.

A thousand thoughts raced through her mind. She didn’t even know how she’d respond to whatever Sirius said next. Hermione looked directly at his face and she could scarcely move a muscle when she locked eyes with him. He was so young…so alive. His black hair curled delicately under his ears and light blue eyes shone with youth. He was so different from the Sirius she knew. Neither scars nor tattoos tainted the boy’s skin, something she was so used to seeing on his future self. Shaking herself away from her thoughts, she prepared to speak when Sirius beat her.

“Would you mind passing the parsnips?” Sirius asked, a speculative look in his eyes.

Hermione’s mouth popped open with disbelief before she slowly handed him the bowl. _What was he playing at?_

“Thanks. I’m Sirius,” he offered, holding out a small hand for Hermione to shake.

Deciding to go along with it despite the brewing frustration she felt, Hermione grasped his hand and introduced herself.

Lily, who was watching the exchange with narrowed eyes, looked back and forth at Sirius and James. “You two are the prats from the train!”

“Indeed we are,” James said with a laugh, bits of food flying out of his mouth. “Name’s James.”

“Pleasure,” Lily said, wrinkling her nose in disgust before turning towards a young Alice Travers, hopefully, Longbottom in the future.

Remus, who was blissfully eating and ignoring the current goings-on, jumped when James addressed him.

“You sick, mate?” James asked, his aristocratic accent pronounced. “It’s no bother if you are. I just want to know I won’t drop dead in the morning from catching whatever you’ve got.”

“Yes, unfortunately,” Remus said giving a long drawn out sigh. “I’ve dragon pox and won’t last the night.”

James blinked owlishly, trying to suss out Remus. While James was busy nervously examining Remus for any sign of the pox, Sirius let out a laugh.

“James, you git. He’s not got the pox,” Sirius said before turning to face Remus. “Ignore him, all the inbreeding gets to some more than others. I’m Sirius Black.”

“Black? My dad says you’re all inbred nutters,” Remus said without thinking while Hermione kicked his leg under the table.

“Only the lucky ones!” Sirius exclaimed with a laugh before reaching around Hermione to shake Remus’s hand. “I can tell we’ll be friends.”

Remus perked up at that. He spent many a night over the summer confiding to Hermione that he was worried no one would like him. No matter how much Hermione tried to convince him otherwise, Remus would hear none of it.

“Here, Remus, let’s switch,” Hermione said, trying to get Remus, James, and Sirius to solidify a future friendship. “There’s treacle over there that I want.”

“If you’d like, Hermione,” Remus said, standing up so Hermione could slide away from Sirius.

The heavy air that cast a veil around Sirius and Hermione broke and she felt like she could breathe easy again. She smiled at Lily and introduced herself to Alice and the petite blonde sitting next to her who turned out to be Marlene McKinnon. Hermione had a vague recollection of the name but couldn’t quite place her.

“It must be so great being sorted into the same house as your brother,” Marlene said, thick Scottish accent rolling around her words.

“I couldn’t imagine if I wasn’t,” Hermione admitted. “Do you have any siblings?”

“Just one. My brother Hamish who’s a 4th year Ravenclaw,” Marlene said, a hint of sadness slipping through her voice.

“Chin up,” Alice told her with a smile. “My dad’s a twin and they got separated. My dad went to Gryffindor and my uncle went to Hufflepuff, still just as inseparable.”

“And my friend Sev just went to Slytherin but that doesn’t mean we’re no longer friends!” Lily exclaimed, not noticing the sceptical looks some of the people sitting close by gave the girl.

“You see, not a problem,” Hermione said with a smile.

The rest of the feast comprised mostly of light discussion. It was nice, this time around. The first time through Hermione was utterly alone and her dorm mates were often unpleasant to her. It was nice to have girls that actually spoke to her and laughed with her. They were all in a new situation and all attempted to make the best of it and find friends quick.

Alice was clearly the most charismatic of the group, a detail that was surprising to Hermione. Neville was always terribly shy and fumbling from a lack of confidence. Hermione had yet to meet Frank Longbottom, but she could see Neville shared his mother’s kindness. When Alice spotted another first year girl sitting shyly by herself, Alice made sure to call over the girl and make introductions. The girl, who introduced herself as Mary MacDonald, was overjoyed to have been included in the discussion.

As their stomachs began to hurt from fullness, the girls tucked into pudding and began discussing their first signs of magic. Alice proudly stated that she was a bit of a late bloomer but when she was eight she slid too fast down a slide and accidentally started to fly.

Lily shared a similar story. “Other than odd accidents when I was little, the first one I remember is playing with my sister on the swings. We jumped off at the same time and she broke her arm and I floated down!”

Lily laughed, a small, reminiscing smile on her face, and the other girls joined in. Marlene’s first magic was turning the horrid peas her mother cooked into sweets. Mary would make the bedtime stories she wanted to be read to her float into her mother’s hands, something which made her single mother, a kind muggle woman, understandably shocked.

Hermione was about to share her story of phantom toothbrushes when Dumbledore rose from the teachers’ table and vanished the remaining food. Hermione snapped her mouth shut and turned to listen to the Professor. The hall fell silent, so quiet that a pin drop could be heard.

“Ahem—” Dumbledore coughed, clearing his throat. “just a few start-of-term announcements now that we are fed.

“First years should note that the forest, as the name implies, is forbidden. This additionally serves as a reminder for some of our older students.

Another announcement, magic against a student is strictly forbidden outside of a secure classroom or supervised setting.

Finally, quidditch trials will be held on the second week of the term. Anyone interested should contact Professor Yaxley.” Hermione heard James whisper excitedly to Sirius.

Hermione rolled her eyes. Father like son, she supposed. She listened to Dumbledore wrap up the speech before he waved his wand and summoned a phantom band above the teachers’ table. Once the band was situated, Dumbledore instructed the students to sing the school song. Twisting his wand, a serpentine ribbon shot out of the end and formed itself into words. Another professor flicked his wand and the band began to play. Hermione happily sang along with the school song, and two fifth years that looked suspiciously like Weasleys began to belt out the song, causing all four tables to titter.

Once everybody finished the song, Dumbledore gave a kind smile and gave a one-man standing ovation. Once he sat down again, Dumbledore called for the prefects to escort the first years to their new dormitories.

Hermione stood up with Lily, Marlene, Mary, and Alice. They scanned the area around the Gryffindor table and eventually came across two prefects. The girl had wild red curls and a pretty, freckled face. She reminded Hermione of her own time as a prefect as the girl was frantically waving her hand and calling the first years over. The other prefect was a handsome black boy who merely laughed at the overenthusiastic witch beside him.

Once all ten of the new Gryffindors were gathered in front of the prefects, the boy spoke. “Hello, everyone. My name’s Charlie Thomas and the other prefect for this year is Freya Fawley. Don’t worry, she always looks like this,” Charlie joked while Freya lightly hit his side.

“Ignore him, he always acts like this,” Freya said sweetly. “Anyways, follow us and mind the staircases. We’ve a long way up.”

With that, Freya and Charlie walked out of the Great Hall, and the nervous first years walked as close together as possible. Remus made his way next to Hermione as they walked up the marble staircase.

“Doing okay?” Hermione whispered. Remus looked dreadfully tired and worn down.

“I’m great,” he insisted. “The blokes I talked to, James and Sirius, they’re great!”

“Who’re the other two?” Hermione asked him, even though she knew the answer to one of the boys.

“The short blond is Peter. A bit quiet and I don’t think Sirius is the biggest fan,” Remus whispered. “The other is Boris Bryce. Seems nice enough. His best friend is a 2nd year Gryffindor named Dev Patil, so I don’t think he’ll talk to us much.”

Hermione and Remus continued to chat. Occasionally, Remus’s eyes would bug out when they walked through a portrait that contained a hidden corridor. Every so often, Freya or Charlie would pull back a tapestry to reveal a door. After what seemed to be an impossible amount of staircases, they came to a sudden halt.

In front of them, exactly as Hermione remembered, hung the Fat Lady’s portrait.

“Password?” She asked, her frilly pink ribbons bouncing as she tilted her head.

“ _Solum Adiuvat_ ,” Freya enunciated clearly.

The Fat Lady gave a curt nod before the portrait door swung forward to reveal a round hole crudely carved into the wall. Freya and Charlie stepped though while the first years all stumbled a bit as their short legs caught on the stone.

Hermione’s heart grew as she stumbled through. It was exactly how she remembered it. The walls were stained a dark red and faded crimson armchairs filled the room. Hermione looked at the fire and in her exhaustion, she could almost see her teenage-self sitting around the fire with Harry, Ron, and Ginny. Tears came unbidden to her eyes and she quickly rubbed them on her sleeve, carefully to not accidentally reveal the word carved into her arm.

Charlie and Freya took turns discussing house rules and then branched off the boys and the girls. Charlie led the first year Gryffindor boys up one set of stairs. Hermione quickly whispered a goodnight to Remus and then locked eyes with Sirius before he turned away from her and walked up the stairs.

Freya led the girls up the other staircase and through the door that had a bronze plaque with the words _First Years_ engraved on it. Once the five girls were inside, Freya welcomed them to Gryffindor and told them to get a good night’s rest before classes began. As soon as she left, the girls began to change into their pyjamas and excited chatter intermingled with yawns filled the room.

“What do you think our first class will be?” Lily asked, her tired face still shining with unrestrained joy.

“Oh, I hope it’s transfiguration!” Marlene said. “My brother told me that Professor McGonagall is one of Britain’s most powerful witches! She can turn into a cat, you know!”

The girls all whispered excitedly to each other, Hermione included. She’d been through this before, but she doubted that Hogwarts could ever be mundane.

Alice was the first to cut off the conversation. She began to speak but a tremendous yawn put her words on hold. “I’m knackered, so it’s off to Bedfordshire for me!”

“Night, Alice!” Mary said. “I think I’m off too, but it was lovely to meet you all!”

The girls each said their goodbyes before tucking into bed. One by one each girl closed her drapes and the candles next to her bedside magically put out. Hermione fell back into her bed, staring up at the dark and working through her racing thoughts.

Hermione lost track of time as she went through and evaluated every event of the day. Mentally, she gathered information about each person and filed it away to jot down later. It was odd to think that at this very moment Voldemort was at large and only starting to become an infamous dark wizard. Hermione felt so very trapped in her small, child-state. As much as she’d liked school the first time around, this time she would already know all the theories, have all the practical experience, perfectly replicate the wand work. If she wasn’t careful, she really would be labelled the brightest witch of her age, not just as a passing compliment by a professor or friend. She really must keep her head down and avoid garnering attention, despite her immature mind craving it.

Just as Hermione was planning her academic approach to Hogwarts, a fine mist silently entered through a gap in the drapes. The wispy blue tendrils twisted around in front of Hermione and blue light illuminated her befuddled expression. The dormitory was deadly in its silence, only if Hermione concentrated could she hear a light snore come from one of the other beds.

She was slowly reaching for her wand when the blue tendrils grew and began to form into the shape of a large dog. Once the dog formed and occupied the space in front of Hermione, a phantom voice emanated from the patronus.

“Common room—by the fire,” Sirius’s adolescent voice whispered. “Disillusion yourself.”

The grogginess that clouded Hermione’s mind fled after Sirius relayed his message. The light of the patronus faded into the darkness as Hermione grabbed her wand. Silently, she disillusioned herself, her young body struggling to perform such advanced magic. It felt like ice slowly melting down her body, and Hermione’s hand that pulled apart the drapes slowly melded into its surroundings.

With all the care she could muster, Hermione creaked across the floor of the dormitory and cast a silencing charm on the door before she opened it and slipped through. The common room was empty. A dying fire weakly illuminated the blood red walls of the area. Hermione made her way over to an armchair by the fire and sat down, noticing a divot in the seat of the armchair next to her.

Tentatively, she whispered: “Sirius?”

Hermione waited with bated breath before deciding to lift up her wand. “ _Finite Incantatem_ ”

The area around the two armchairs pulsated with light before slowly dimming. The unpleasant sensation of cold wetness left Hermione’s body and the chameleon effect disappeared. She placed her gaze intently on the space above the armchair next to hers and watched as Sirius materialized into view.

His childlike face was contorted by furious intensity. Sirius’s wand pointed directly at Hermione’s throat and the sleeve of his pyjamas fell back enough to reveal the same tattoos that marred his older self. Hermione’s eyes widened in shock before she quickly regained composure and shifted into a more defensive stance from where she sat.

“How did you save me your third year?” Sirius demanded, his voice a furious whisper.

“Time-turner,” Hermione said quickly. “Harry and I saved Buckbeak and you escaped on him.”

With that, Sirius cautiously lowered his wand, deciding that Hermione’s answer was sufficient. “How are you here?” He demanded.

“Same as you. The veil.”

“What year did you fall through?”

“I didn’t fall,” Hermione said first before continuing. “I entered the veil in 2010. I arrived here in 1970.”

Sirius took on a contemplative expression. His mouth opened several times before closing again. After an internal debate, Sirius settled on one word: “why?”

“For you,” Hermione said softly. “I was an unspeakable and stupidly thought that I could enter the veil and bring you back.”

“Are you stuck here?” Sirius asked with an indescribable expression.

“It would seem so,” Hermione replied. “Dumbledore found out about me after I fell into Remus’s garden. He told me there was no way back and I was adopted by the Lupins. I asked for a potion to make my mental maturity fit my age.”

“Why did you go and do that?”

Hermione let a laugh escape. “Because it was exhausting!” She exclaimed. “It felt like I was an auntie to Remus, not a sister. Enough about me though…what happened after you fell through the veil?”

“It was…strange,” Sirius admitted with a faraway look in his eyes. “I thought that I had died. I kept falling and falling. I must admit that I thought I was falling to hell; I never even believed in hell.

When I stopped falling, I felt like I broke every bone in my body. Every scar that I had was opened and I was bleeding everywhere. I didn’t realize I was a kid again, but I saw that Grimmauld place was in front of me,” Sirius stopped speaking for a moment, overcome by his experience.

“If I wasn’t sure before, I knew then that I was in hell,” he whispered. Though he wore the face of a child, the look in his eyes matched those of his older self who was haunted by the horrors of life.

“How did you survive?” Hermione asked, afraid to speak louder than a whisper.

“Kreacher, believe it or not. I thought that I was dying again and called out his name. Sodding beacon of hope, he was, when he appeared. I told him to grab a wand if there was one in the house, not to tell anyone what was going on. A few moments later he returned with my dad’s.

I didn’t even question it. I was too busy trying not to bleed out. After healing myself, I noticed my hands…I transfigured a tin can into a mirror, but it took so much effort at first that I wasn’t even sure that I _could_ transfigure it. But it worked. I saw my reflection and almost passed out from the shock of seeing myself as a child and covered in tattoos. I quickly cleaned myself up and fished a morning paper out of a rubbish bin. The year was sixty-eight.”

Hermione tried to picture it. Sirius alone, thinking he was dead. He didn’t land somewhere kind and pleasant like Hermione had. He landed outside the place that brought back all the negative aspects of his childhood and his isolation after escaping Azkaban. Hermione couldn’t even begin to imagine.

“How did you do it?” She asked. “How did you spend three years alone?”

“I’d already spent twelve years alone. Three years is nothing after Azkaban,” Sirius said. “Besides, I had dear old mum and dad. I had Regulus. My mother noticed that I was different, but she assumed that she and father had finally beat some sense into me. I charmed my tattoos and scars to be invisible. That took loads of work like you wouldn’t believe. I decided to convince myself that the veil caused me to travel back in time, refused to believe it was a twisted afterlife. Time goes by fast when you’re planning to change everything that went wrong the first time around,” Sirius finished, trying to crack a joke.

Sirius thought for a moment. “You said you entered in 2010, though. What happened? Is Harry—” Sirius stopped speaking, not daring to think that Harry had died.

“He lived,” Hermione said, tears beginning to spill. “For the most part, we all did. We lost some people…” Hermione refused to say names. “Harry and Ron settled down. Harry got married to Ginny, and they had three beautiful children. Remus and Tonks had a son. Harry defeated Voldemort. It…it was a good life.”

Sirius wore a wistful smile. “I’m glad. Harry deserved that. After everything…Harry deserves a family. I only wish that I could have been a part of it.”

“That’s why I tried to bring you back,” Hermione said. “For Harry and for you. Only, it didn’t work.”

Sirius suddenly grew intense. “Don’t you see, though! We can change it all for the better. Your idea of fixing things didn’t work, but that doesn’t mean another idea won’t. We can work on destroying Voldemort now. We can stop Pettigrew from ever becoming friends with—”

Hermione cut him off. “Are you sure that’s what you want?” Hermione asked softly. “He was one of your best friends in school. What if you could save him? I wanted to enter Hogwarts and despise him. I _did_ when I first saw him, but I can’t judge him for actions that occurred in a different universe with a different set of rules.”

Sirius curled his upper lip up in disgust. “I understand what you’re saying—I really do, but you’re wrong. He doesn’t deserve a second chance. You don’t betray your friends. We would have died for him, and he would never have done that for us. He was a rat once and he’ll turn into a rat again.”

“This world is different though. Look at Snape. His father died and his mother actually takes care of him now. This world is slightly different, and the people are slightly different.”

“A different world doesn’t change a soul, Hermione,” Sirius said pointedly, signalling an end to the conversation.

“Fine,” Hermione said. “This won’t be the end of our conversation about Pettigrew, but I’ll drop it for now. Tomorrow, though, we need to pay a visit to Dumbledore.”

 


End file.
